


California Dreamin'

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drug Use, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 17:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: San Francisco. 1967. It's the "Summer of Love" and two young Brits decide to take advantage of having only seven days together.





	1. The Rain, the Park, and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> John is 16 and Roger is 17 during this. It's honestly never spoken so, but if you're uncomfortable with that, I apologize. The '60s were strange. People were so bloody mature for no reason.
> 
> SHOUT OUT TO FLOR WHO GOT THE TITLE CORRECTLY USING ONLY EMOJIS!

_** I love the flower girl ** _  
_**Oh, I don't know just why she simply caught my eye** _  
_**I love the flower girl** _  
_**She seemed so sweet and kind, she crept into my mind** _

John had never been to North America before nor did he have any real desire to. When John thought of traveling, his mind never wandered farther than London or even Surrey, which were mere hours away from his home in Leicestershire. John was a regular lad who was content with what he had in life. He was well aware that Oadby wasn’t exciting or fancy, but he was quite all right by that. After all, John had never been one to show off, so taking pride in his hometown just seemed silly. 

Nevertheless, when his mum informed him that he’d be spending two weeks in the States, visiting his aunt, uncle, and cousins, John was slightly less than thrilled. He had planned on spending his summer tinkering about with his electronic kits and practicing his bass. His band, The Oppression, had been playing a few places here and there, and while he very much doubted they would ever make any real waves, he still wanted to be apart of it. 

Playing the bass kept him busy and kept him out of trouble. John had managed to put in the time and effort for both the band and his schooling, but now that school was finished for the next handful of weeks but had hoped on placing all his focus on performing. 

His mum had other ideas, however. She wanted her children to get out a bit and after a long-winded conversation with her sister over the phone about fearing that her children would become homebodies, she made the decision to send them off. 

John knew what it was about, whether his mum realized it or not. She had been trying so very hard to be both the loving, nurturing mother while also being a tad stern and declining her children. Now that his dad was gone, she was a single parent just trying to get by. He wondered if shipping them off was more for her wanting them to be a bit more cultured and get out of the house or if she just needed them to go away for a short while. 

Either way, John knew he didn’t have a choice. Along with his sister, they packed their bags, kissed their mum goodbye, and headed out for San Francisco of all places. Their aunt had married an American man working in Europe and the two remained there for some time. Halfway through their marriage when their children were still young, the man got offered a better position and the family left rainy England for sunny California. 

John hadn’t seen his cousins in nearly three years and aside from a handful of long-distance phone calls that cost quite a lot and some letters that had been sent, he knew very little about them. 

The only one who really stood out was his eldest cousin Patricia, who was one year his senior. They were close when they were just kids, but even though wasn’t naive enough to believe all that would still remain since she had been gone for nearly five years now. 

When they arrived, they were given a warm welcome. His aunt was doing everything she could to make them feel like they were on holiday. California was a large adjustment and even though they’d only be staying for a small amount of them, she insisted that they make the best of it. 

Julie, John’s sister, was to share a room with Pamela, who was the same age as Julie while John was given the top bunk bed in the room owned by his youngest cousin Patrick. Patricia, who was the oldest of the ground, had her own room and remained there for most of the day. She was friendly, of course. John didn’t get his hopes up in thinking that they would go right back to being best of friends.

She had her own life and her own ideals. She was to finish her final year of school that September and had lost nearly all of her accent since she arrived in the states, save for a few words here and there.

Aside from his aunt, no one had the accent really, which made his aunt ever more excited about them visiting, finally having someone who she could speak to and she’d understand. “The way these people talk. It’s like they've forgotten their pronunciations!” 

California was different, to say the least. Everyone was either a business person, a housewife, a younger, or someone completely out of the realm of reality. Being the late sixties as it was, John knew that the whole ‘flower power’ thing was in its all-time high, though he never really fit into that crowd. 

He let his hair grow out, but that was the style now and he liked to be stylish. Sure, he wore the bell-bottomed pants and long-sleeved shirts. Sometimes he’d add a bit of fringe to it when he was to perform on stage, but that was to look good for the crowd. On his own, he preferred wearing simple cotton shirts and soft pants. 

California was the belly of the movement however and you were either a strait-laced American supporting whatever the government said or you were an overly loving person who just wanted peace. 

John was none of those things. He was a good person but he didn’t think the government knew everything and while he knew peace was important, he didn’t think it was completely possible. He was stuck in the middle and currently, stuck in this place for an extended amount of time. 

John tried to make the best of it, simply because hat other choice did he have? He certainly didn’t want to spend the majority of his summer holiday being miserable. It was hard, as he was without his bass and electric kits. He wasn’t bold enough to ask his uncle for anything to toy around with and settled on helping his youngest cousin fix some of his toys that weren’t working properly. 

He had gone out a time or two, with his aunt or uncle, just to get a feeling of the area. It was a lovely city, that much was for sure. John may not have been a great fan of the city itself, but even he could take in the beauty of it. He was amused by the people he interacted with, almost all of whom requested him to say any word that came to their minds. His accent was unique, but never before had he thought anyone would want to hear him say ‘banana’ or ‘squirrel’ before. 

His aunt did everything she could to entertain himself and Julie and while his sister was more easy going and willing to go along with everything, all John could find himself doing was gritting his teeth and hoping that Richard didn’t replace him before he returned. 

It had been exactly five days since his arrival that his cousin finally did something with him. They interacted sure; wasn’t like they could be in the same home without speaking to one another, but she mostly did her own thing. She went out with friends or stayed at home reading. John had caught sight of her room a time or two and a woman by the name of Gloria Steinem seemed to be a key player in Patricia’s life. 

John never got much of a chance to ask who exactly the woman was as Patricia was busy with her own life and he didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t until his aunt and uncle finally sat her down and insisted that she show her cousin around. After all, he had come a long way and it would be terrible for him to spend his holiday doing nothing. 

Besides, they were family! She should enjoy spending time with him. Surely whatever it was she did when she went out with her friends, John would like to do as well. This was a very high doubt in John’s mind, but his cousin didn’t seem to care. So long as it got her parents off her back, she was fine with having him follow her about like a lost puppy. 

She had helped him dress, wanting him to blend in better for whatever it was they were going to. John thought it was to be a poetry reading or maybe even a protest rally. Something that would fit into the whole ‘peace and love’ scene that was bleeding through the nation. 

In the end, he was both right and wrong. Patrica had been planning to attend something called the Fantasy Fair; some music festival for people just like her. Happy-go-lucky hippies who just wanted everybody to get along. The idea of being stuck in a crowd terrified John but listening to actual bands play soothed him well enough. 

He had been a huge lover of music his entire life and most of the bands listed were some that he had collected over the years from the money he had saved up. John stayed close to Patricia, or Trish as she had been labeled by her group of friends. It was quite obvious he stuck out like a sore thumb, even with the attire that Patricia had put together for him. 

Tight clothing that also somehow came off as flowy was the latest trend. She had given him a bit of a makeover for the moment, passing off a few heeled shoes and shirts that made him look like he belonged. 

Except he didn’t belong there but was forced to be by his aunt and uncle in an attempt to get him to socialize while also bringing his relationship to his cousin a tad closer. He tried not to make it too awkward and just say off to the side, wanting to be out of the way for the most part. Patricia was kind enough to keep an eye on him, refusing to allow anyone with ill intent go near him. 

John was no stranger to drugs. Even if he hadn’t done them himself, he knew of them. And while security was at the gate, it was no surprise that over half of the people at the event were doing. John had never been one to give in to temptation or try to impress anyone, but he felt so incredibly left out and awkward just sitting off on the grass while everyone else was having a bit of fun or laughing without a care. 

“Can you at least try to look like you’re having fun?” His cousin asked, plopping down beside him suddenly. 

John sat up slightly, feeling guilty about how to own expression. He hadn’t wanted her to worry about him, but it seemed that he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. As he would get older, he was sure to master them, but he was still young and had so much to learn. 

He was fiddling about with the camera he had brought with him. It was a parting gift from his mum; something she had hoped would bring more excitement to the trip. John enjoyed photographer and had been using most of his film in the few days they had been in the states. His aunt promised to develop the pictures before he returned home, allowing him to have all the pictures to go home with. 

“I’m just not much of a fan of crowds.” He confessed to her, looking over to all the bodies that were walking about and dancing to the music playing on. 

“You’re in a _band_.” Patricia reminded him. “Large crowds are what make bands stay relevant.” 

“I don’t think any band I’ll be apart of will ever play a crowd as large as this.” He confessed, swallowing hard at the very idea of playing for hundreds of people. The biggest The Oppression had ever played for was about forty people and that was utterly nerve-wracking. John liked to play for a hobby but knew he would never last in anything huge. 

“Anything is possible, cuz,” Patricia replied, pouncing upwards when she saw something that caught her eyes behind her heart-shaped sunglasses. “Meddows!”

In a small bout of confusion, John followed her gaze, noticing a man walking with an arm full of circular flowered rings. It didn’t take much for John to realize they were flower crowns. Whistling with her fingers, Patricia waved him over. 

John raised a brow as the man-made his way to them, practically swaying to the music that played off in the distance.

“My lady,” He greeted. 

It was his voice that caught John’s attention. It was lithe and sweet and more importantly, accented just like his own. John never expected to meet another Englishman while visiting the states, but here he was, standing proudly before him with dozens of flowers hanging from his arms. 

“How much for a crown?” Patricia asked sweetly.

“You pay whatever and however you deem fit,” The man answered. 

John could feel himself staring and swiftly broke eye contact the moment the man could feel it too. He was young, maybe around Patricia’s age if not a bit older. Long, dirty blond hair that hung at his shoulders. He was shirtless except for a vest and wore jeans that were hanging low. His sunglasses were hinted a light red and he too was wearing one a crown of different colored flowers upon his head. 

Going into her purse, Patricia pulled out a bit of money, handing it over to him in exchange for one of the white crowns. 

“None for you, sweets?” The man questioned curiously, jutting his chin out towards the brunet. 

John shifted slightly, the heels of his hands rubbing nervously against his pants. He shook his head, clearing his throat. “I’m not a girl.” He answered, speaking slightly lower and deeper in hopes of making his point stand. 

He knew he had a nice jawline and delicate features and the long hair didn’t help much, but that was in nowadays. Many people in the area looked similar to John, though he still felt the need to point out the obvious.

A smile slipped across the man’s face, his tongue slipping out ever so swiftly to run across his pink lips. “Neither am I.” He replied, a blond eyebrow peeking up behind the sunglasses. 

John’s cheeks turned a harsh scarlet and he quickly turned his head to look away. “Forget this one. He isn’t much for fun.” Patricia mentioned, slipping her crown onto her head. 

The man watched them for a small moment before carrying on, happily accepting whatever payment someone was willing to give him for such a silly item. 

John watched Patricia go back off with her friends, almost all of which we're getting ready for whatever band was coming on next. He tried not to let her teasing get to his head. He could have fun. He had lots of fun! He had friends back home who loved to have him around because he was so bloody fun. It was this place, this hell hole where you either had to be a goody-two-shoes or power-hating hippy. John didn’t fit in and he hated it. 

Looking back to the group, he saw one of Patricia’s male friends. He was quiet for the most part and had previously attempted to get John to smoke something other than a cigarette. He had decided against it earlier but found no reason to hold back anymore. 

He asked for a hit and was given exactly that. He inhaled quickly, his throat drying up almost automatically. He continued to suck it down to the point where even the bloke had to stop him. John felt awful after that. His head was pounding relentlessly and his stomach was in knots. He didn’t understand why people did this so freely. Surely this wasn’t the feeling people were searching for; that magical high some were chasing. 

John had gone off to find a toilet, getting lost in the process. He was dizzier than anything and slammed into the crowd a time or two before the stupid platform shoes that Patricia had picked out for him got the best of him. He wasn’t sure what it was he had tripped over, whether it be a rock, or a person, or maybe even himself but before he knew it he had tumbled to the ground, his knees hitting the pavement with a hard crash. 

“Oy! Are you all right?” 

John looked through bloodshot eyes, following the voice until he found the mouth it came from. The man selling the flower crowns was beside him, his arms empty and hands-free as he grabbed hold of him to help him up. 

“You look green, mate. Feeling okay?” 

“Not particularly.” John shuttered, swallowing down another wave of nausea. 

That seemed to be all it took for the man to get the memo. With a hand on the small of his back, he led John off to a small section that was currently unoccupied. There, he found a trash bin and turned John to face it just as his stomach had enough. He threw up carelessly, heaving heavily as his fingers tripped the hot metal casing of the bin. 

The man was kind enough to remain by his side, his hand running up and down John’s back in an attempt to soothe him through it. After a few minutes, it seemed his body was satisfied and he pushed back from the bin, using the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth. 

“Better now?” He asked quietly. John answered with a nod. He was still dizzy, but he certainly felt better than he had prior to vomiting. “Good. How about a sit, eh? Do you remember what you took?” 

“Certainly wasn’t a cigarette,” John muttered, moving off to the side. There was a bit of shade from the trees and John took the opportunity to lay down and relax as his body and mind adjust. 

A gentle hum came from the flower man. He stood across from John, watching him from behind those fashion sunglasses that John himself could never imagine wearing. 

“Never know when you’re going to get a bad batch.” He muttered, taking the small walk over to plop down beside John on the grass. He leaned back, getting comfortable in the shade as the next band set up to play. “You’re rather far from home, aren’t you?” 

John rubbed his temples gently, his eyes closed as he tried to come down from the sorry excuse of a high that the marijuana had put him through. “I could say the same to you.” 

“On a bit of an extended holiday,” He revealed, toying with the long grass they were currently settled on. “And you?” 

“Visiting family,” John confessed, cringing as the sharpness of the microphone echoed as the next band began to play. 

John only knew a few of the people playing beside him though even then he didn’t show any real excitement for them. The flower man, however, seemed very pleased with the band on stage. “Now _this_ is music!” He proclaimed proudly. “I’ve purchased more records than I have articles of clothing since I’ve arrived.” 

John opened his eyes then, scanning the man’s profile. Two pieces of clothing were visible (the jeans and vest) and there was possibly a third if the man decided to wear underwear with it, but who knew about that. 

It seemed that during this specific time, wearing anything under your clothing had become practically optional. Some of Patricia’s female friends had preached about having to wear brassieres and apparently the idea of a woman not having any knickers on under a dress was something that drove men wild.

John, sadly, could not relate. 

“Not a fan of music then?” He asked suddenly, catching John off guard. 

“Wha? No, no. I mean . . . I love music.” John swore, trying his best to keep up with the conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time his head hurt this badly. “I’m in a band.” 

A blond brow peeked up from behind the sunglasses and a bit of a smile came across those red lips that seemed to be catching John’s attention, despite his headache. “Really now? What do you play?” 

“Bass guitar.” 

The man bobbed his head, looking John over swiftly. “You got the fingers for it.” He mentioned. “I’m a drummer. Been playing since I was a lad.” 

“Needed a hobby. School offered free lessons. Mostly taught me.” John admitted through gritted teeth. 

“All right, mate. Enough talking.” The man muttered. It was obvious how uncomfortable John was and it seemed he was taking pity out on him. “Come on. Lay back.” A hand tugged at his upper arm and John felt himself giving in, going to lay back against the tall grass. 

He laid back on the ground, the small breeze that would come and go blowing his hair across his face. The man beside him pushed it away as they both settled down. “Just try to relax, eh? You’ll come down soon enough.” 

John hummed, squeezing his eyes tightly. Despite the noise of the band and the people around them, John found himself drifting off to sleep. He had always been a heavy sleeper, being able to slumber through just about anything. Thunderstorms, turbulence, and apparently, even rock concerts. 

John didn’t know how long he was out for. Maybe a few minutes. Perhaps even a few hours. When he came to, he was more comfortable than ever. His head was no longer against the tickling grass, but resting on top of a jean-clad thigh. Gentle fingers were running through his hair, massaging his scape. Both of which belonged to the flower man, who stayed by his side and allowed John to use him as a makeshift pillow. 

John had never cuddled with someone before and while this wouldn’t exactly be considered it, the act of resting his head on someone's lap while he slept was incredibly intimate to the young man. John wasn’t some innocent child; he previously had a girlfriend and they had kissed enough times for John to know that while he enjoyed the act, it was the partner of choice he wasn’t pleased with. He woke slowly, pulling away and going to sit up. 

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” The man spoke lightly. John rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, trying to shake off that sleepy feeling that was lingering on him. “How do you feel?” 

“Groggy.” He admitted, blowing out a slow bit of air. “But better.” 

His headache was gone and despite feeling a bit sluggish, it seemed the nap had done him some good. 

“Great. Though I hope you’re not a fan of Penny Nichols — you slept through her whole set.” 

“Who?” 

All John got in response was a snicker from the man beside him, who turned his head to greet some fellow concert goers. John wondered if he had barred the man from leaving, having taken over his body in favor of using it as a mattress. 

He was chatting freely, speaking to one of his friends who had brought a guitar. Who the hell would bring a guitar to a concert? The dirty blond took hold of the instrument, drumming gently during the quiet time between bands. 

Finding that his camera had thankfully not been taken during his slumber, John lifted it and snapped a picture of the other man, twisting shyly once he had been caught in action. 

John looked about, hoping to find an exit of sorts. He didn’t know how to get back to his aunts home, but he knew the address and could figure it out from there. He had no idea where Patricia went off to, but none of that seemed to matter now. 

“Well, now that you’re awake, how about we get some food?” The man besides John asked, turning his attention back to him. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Food. Now that your mind and stomach are settled, you must be starving.” 

John hadn’t thought about food the entire time they were out, but now that he was awake and refreshed, his stomach was grumbling, asking for some proper substance. 

Pushing up off the grass, the man took John’s hand in his own, holding a tight grasp as he pulled him off the ground. John followed willingly, knowing it was either go with him or stay behind and starve on his own. They walked for a short while before finally finding a makeshift food stand. 

John had no idea what they were actually selling, but it didn’t seem to matter at the flower man took the liberty to order for them, having over the money as he took hold of the food that was given. Once off the line, the man handed John the food as they found another place to sit. 

It was strange, to say the least. A skinny sausage nestled inside the slit of a roll. There was a bit of red and yellow run across it, topping it all off. John must have been staring for a long about of time as the other man began to snicker and watch him between bites. 

“It’s a hot dog, mate.” He explained. “I guess they haven’t made their way to England.” 

John wasn’t exactly a picky eater. He preferred simple things like oatmeal or cheese on toast. He liked a small cup of tea with lemon and some crackers if he was feeling peckish. This hot dog was large and messy, but it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. He took the first bite, trying his best to keep the condiments from dripping down his chin. 

It wasn’t bad tasting. Definitely not something he would get often, but for someone who was hungry and hadn’t eaten anything since that morning, it was delicious enough for the time being. 

“Have you ever gone to a concert before?” The man asked him curiously between bites of his own hotdog. 

John shook his head, looking out over the crowd. He listened to records and once his school had taken him to see the countries orchestra, but never anything like this. 

“One day I want to go to a real rock concert. This is fun but it’s nothing but a gimmick. I want something loud and wild and completely out of control.” 

The thought of being at a concert that was completely out of control sent a shiver down John’s side, terrifying him in a way he couldn’t really describe. He very much doubted he would as places like those weren’t his scene. He liked to keep things in order and a rock concert was anything but. 

“Wanna dance?” He asked suddenly. He gestured out to where the people were dancing across the way. Guys dancing with girls; girls dancing with girls, and girls dancing on their own. Off to the side were two other men, dancing close to the music that was playing on. 

John turned his head, finishing up his meal as he stared at the ground. He knew San Francisco was the home of free love and all that shit. Where people could just be people and nobody gave a fuck about anyone, but that was all a sham. 

Everybody cared about everything and sometimes it was just better to swallow down those feelings than to deal with the consequences of them. 

“I don’t dance.” He muttered in response. 

“Shame. You certainly look like someone who can follow a beat.” The man answered, watching him ever so carefully behind those rose-colored glasses. 

John felt as if he was under a microscope with this man. He watched him so carefully like he was studying John’s ever move. Even in such an open setting where there was so much going on and so many people to look at, John was the main focus. And for John, who thrived on being invisible, the idea of someone keeping such a close eye on him was absolutely horrifying. 

“John!” Both men looked up to see Patricia making her way over. Her eyes were glassy yet narrowed. It seemed whatever drugs she decided to partake in didn’t do enough to stop the fury that John remembered she had inside here. “Where the hell have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you?” 

John wanted to tell her that he had been with the man beside him, but how could he? He didn’t even know his name and what could John say? That he got a bad high and took a nap in the middle of the grass. 

“Come on. We have to go. My dad will kill us if we’re out past curfew.” 

John hadn’t realized just how late it was getting. The sun was just beginning to set and while John was actually starting to enjoy himself, he knew he couldn’t stay with the mystery flower man forever. 

As Patricia pulled on his arm, he gave the man one last glance, stuttering as he tried to find his words. He wanted to thank him for helping him when he needed it and not making him feel like a bigger fool than he was but never got the chance. 

Patricia was dragging him away, off into the car with the rest of her friends so they could return home for the night. Leaving behind all the drugs and excitement and flower men behind. 


	2. For What It's Worth

**_It's time we stop,_ **

**_Hey!_ **

**_What's that sound_ **

**_Everybody look_ **

**_What's going down_ **

It was two days later that John went out again with his cousin. When they returned home from the Fantasy Fair, John mostly kept his distance. He felt silly for reacting the way he did all because he smoked a bit and then wandered off to the point of getting lost. John was mature enough to go into town on his own, but this was a different situation altogether. 

Patricia felt terrible for it, apologizing the following day though John rebuffed her. She had done nothing wrong. After all, she had been planning on this for a while and having her young cousin tag along was never really apart of the equation. She had her own life to worry about and John couldn’t expect her to just drop it all to babysit him. He wasn’t a child. He didn’t need to be protected or looked after. 

Except he had been looked after. By an angel of a man wearing a flower crown upon his dirty blond hair. John tried not to think about the mystery man, knowing very well he wouldn’t be seeing him again. Patricia had mentioned that people from all over the country came for the festival and since he was sporting an accent similar to his own, John was fairly certain the man was no longer in the country. 

He brushed it off as a once in a lifetime experience; something to talk about with his mates when he returned home. John had never been one to brag about certain things he had done, but if the topic came up then he wouldn’t stop himself from mentioning it. 

Patrica felt bad about losing John in the crowd, having remembered how reserved he was when it came to big groups of people. John hadn’t had a full-on panic attack, but the combination of his own anxiety and the harsh reaction to the weed was enough to set him back. He declined to go out with her the following night to a poetry reading, choosing to instead remain home and play board games with Julie, Patrick, and Pamela. 

It was fun for the most part. John got along well with those younger than himself. When family events would arise, John would normally be placed at the children’s table. Not because his family saw him as a child, but his own maturity was enough to keep the youngsters in line. 

The following day, Patricia insisted that they go out together. There was a music store in town that she thought John might take interest in. While he had previously planned on helping his aunt with the housework, John did have to admit that the idea of going to the said store did pique his interest. 

They went out together in the early afternoon, with Patricia hoping to spend the day with her cousin as a bit of a makeshift apology for what transcended at the concert. 

“It’s really all right, Patrica,” John told her, pausing for the moment. “Right. You prefer Trish now. Sorry.” 

“Only my friends call me, Trish. You’re not my friend, John. You’re my family.” She insisted as they walked down the street together. “I have been terrible to you lately. We used to be so close.” 

“We were children. People grow up. Grow apart. Completely understandable.” John didn’t expect his cousin to keep their budding relationship going on after she moved across the sea. How could they? Patricia had her own life to live and her own interest to focus on. And the same went for John. 

“Still. You’re only here for a short time. We should make the most of it.” Patricia mentioned as they approached the store. 

She had a mischievous smile across her lips and there was a familiar glimmer in her eyes. John couldn’t help but think back to when they were children and the female could come up with wild ideas that would get them in a bit of trouble. She had the same look then that she had now and John found himself compelled to follow her. 

The music store was larger than any John had ever seen before. Back at home, there were quaint little places that sold records for a bit of petty cash and the one time he had gone to London there was a larger record store being set up but hadn’t been opened at the time. 

This place was wall to wall records, and cassettes, and posters, and tee shirts, and just about anything else you could think a music fan would want or need. They sold instruments too, with guitars strung up all the walls for models. John was intrigued, searching for only a moment until he came face to face with what he was hoping to find. 

A cream-colored Fender precision bass remained locked away on the shelf, looking as gorgeous as anything. The bass he had waiting for him at home was nice, but nothing worth showing off. He purchased it cheaply, having borrowed a bit of money from the lead singer of his band, which he rightfully paid off when they actually started getting paying gigs. 

“Nice, huh?” Patricia spoke from beside him. “Follow me.” 

Patricia had mentioned along the way that she visited this particular store more often than not. Most of the people working there greeted her as they entered and she thanked one of the guys for letting her into the back. 

“Hey, Doug.” She called out, spotting one of the guys sitting in a heavy distressed armchair in the corner. “This is my cousin, the one I told you about.” 

“Ooh, the rockstar,” Doug mentioned, standing up from his seat. He was dressed colorfully, matching many of those that had been at the concert. His hair was blond and loose and his skin was tanned like everybody else in San Francisco. 

Right off from the bat, John could see he had a flamboyant way about himself and he felt a tightness in his chest that he quickly swallowed down. 

“Nice to finally meet you. I’m guessing you want to jam out a bit?” 

“I’m sorry?” John spoke up, confused by his question. 

“There’s a room in the back that you can practice in. Play the instruments. It’s three bucks a session but Doug here owes me a favor.” 

“Your cousin here hooked me up with a bellhop from the Sheraton, for which I am eternally grateful,” Doug said, winking to Patricia in a knowing fashion. 

John shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to take the attention. He hadn’t played in days and was getting a bit antsy over it. “I’d like to play if that would be all right.” 

“Any friend of Trish’s is a friend of mine. Just hang tight for a sec. The guy in there still has a few minutes.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” John mumbled to Patricia when they were alone again. 

“Take it as my final apology for getting you high and leaving you dry.” 

“You didn’t get me high, Patricia. I did that all on my own. I also walked off on my own.” 

“It was my responsibility to make sure nothing happened to you.” 

John rolled his eyes, adjusting his footing so his hip was popped and his arms were crossed over his chest. “I’m not a child.” He grumbled annoyingly. 

“No, you’re not. But you’re my cousin and I want to do this for you.” Patricia told him sternly. 

John shifted again, looking around the room ever so slightly. “I didn’t know you talked about me.” 

Another smile came across his cousin's lips. Less dramatic this time around, more real and kind. “Well, it’s not every day I have someone to brag about. Paying gigs with a band of his own. Quite impressive, John.” 

“All right! Time’s up little man,” Doug called out as he opened a door on the side. The previously quiet room was now filled with the sound of drumming. Loud, heavily calculated drumming. The player wasn’t messing around, but rather sticking to a proper beat and method tempo. 

Unable to stop the curiosity, John popped his head into the room to look into whoever it was playing. There, he found a dirty blond-haired man completely lost into the music.

When the set was finished, the player was left panting, smiling so brightly at it reached his eyes. Even from the doorway, John could see how blue those eyes were. It left him feeling stunned, unable to move as Doug waved the other out. 

“All right, Ringo. That’s enough for today.” 

“I think I beat my own record.” The guy spoke aloud, moving around from behind the drum kit. 

“Uh-huh. Sure you did. Same time tomorrow?”

“I think you’re starting to warm up to me.” The guy said cheekily. 

It was the voice that caught John’s attention. It was familiar in an odd way and when the drummer passer-by to leave the room he stopped, catching sight of John across the way. “I know you,” He mentioned aloud, pointing a calloused finger at John. “Fantasy Fair, yeah?” 

John felt his cheeks heating up as realization came over him. Gone were the rose-colored sunglasses and flower crown on his head. In place of his vest was a pale tee-shirt, though the low rise jeans were just about the same. John may not have always dressed to impress, but he did appreciate a good sense of style, even if it couldn’t always project it onto himself.

John didn’t look far different from what he had worn at the concert. He wasn’t exactly representing the peace and love moment on this day, but rather a simple button-down with black slacks. He had packed the simplest clothes he had, not wanting to try and overdo anything. 

Without the heeled shoes, they were around the same height, giving an inch or two on John’s end. 

“Did everyone go to that damn festival and not invite me? I’m going to ban you all from my store.” Doug bitched beside them, his hands falling to his hips. 

“Just the second day. Ned and I sold flower crowns.” The drummer admitted, breaking eye contact with John to look at Doug. 

“Well, now I know how you afford all your sessions.” Doug shrugged lazily. 

Patricia snorted in the corner. “Doubtful. Half the crowd paid in tongue-twisting.” She said with a playful glance. 

“You didn’t.” The dirty blond commented. He paused, looking over to John casually. “You didn’t buy one either. Shame, really.” He mentioned, his tongue licking along his bottom lip as he looked the brunet up and down. 

John stood there, feeling like an absolute fool as he cleared his throat. “Do I just go in?” He asked Doug. Slipping inside, he searched for the instrument of choice, his heart beating loudly against his chest when he finally saw it. 

“All right, big man. This baby right here is very precious to me, so be kind to her.” Doug said, taking the bass off the stand and handing it over to John. 

Almost automatically, John got right into it. He pulled the strap over his shoulder, adjusting it to the right length. He began tuning and testing out the strings, making tiny adjustments here and there. He checked out the small amp in the corner, fixing the dials and turning them ever so often. Finally, when he deemed himself ready, John stood and found he had a bit of an audience. 

“Well, go on then.” The drummer gestured for him to play. John was used to doing this in front of people. After all, he played in a band, which would be nothing without the live audience before them. 

Nodding along, John got into playing. He wasn’t trying to show off or really get into how skilled he was. He started off just playing a few chords, getting a feel of it. It had only been a short while since he last played, but he was beginning to feel rusty. Feeling his fingers against the strings put the young man at ease and he allowed himself to relax to the fullest extent. 

He played a song that The Oppression had played at nearly all their shows and while he knew it wasn’t as nice as it would have been if the rest of the band was around to back him, he received a round of applause from the three people watching him. 

“Now that is some serious finger work. How long have you been playing for?” The drummer asked, stepping deeper into the room. 

“A few years now. More of a hobby than anything.” John confessed, holding the bass close to him. 

“Nah mate. Music isn’t a hobby. It’s a lifestyle.” The blue-eyed angel before him proclaimed ever so proudly. “We should jam together sometime. Bet we’d tear the place down as the rhythm section.” 

“Another time, Romeo. I have other customers to attend to.” Doug spoke aloud, slapping a roll of sheet music against the drummers head. “Johnny, keep on playing bud. Your session is free. You — go to the front before I scratch your pretty-boy face apart.” 

“I really do think you’re starting to like me.” The dirty blond commented, going forward only when Doug nudged him away from the door. 

“We’ll give you some privacy,” Patricia said, pulling the door closed so John was alone in the practice room. 

He played for a decent amount of time, just enough for him to feel comfortable again. John was the type to take everything he did very seriously, whether it be something he hoped could be his career path like engineering or just a hobby, as his instruments. Some might call him a perfectionist and that was perfectly fine. John liked excelling at things and there was nothing wrong with that. 

He could have played for hours and hours without growing tired or bored, but he didn’t want to leave his cousin waiting. A small part of his mind wondered if Patricia would even still be out there when he finally finished, probably having grown bored from standing about while he had his moment. 

Deciding he was finished, John carefully placed the bass onto the stand, taking a long look at it as he did so. It was a gorgeous piece, something he one day hoped to own when he was a bit older and making his own money. He very doubted that his musical career would ever take off and to be honest, he didn’t really want it to. John liked playing for the sake of playing, not for the idea of fame and fortune. 

It would be a good thing to do on a night when he wasn’t working. Be apart of a band that got paid petty cash to play in the corner of a club or at events. Nothing overly spectacular, but that was quite all right. Just being able to play was a gift that John was very thankful for. 

Walking out from the back rooms, John found that Patricia was in fact still in the store, sitting off in the corner chairs and speaking to the drummer about who knows what. As he got closer, he caught the tail end of the conversation, which seemed to be about the record Patricia was currently holding. 

“How’d you do, McCartney?” Doug asked, his smile bright and beaming as he leaned against the counter. 

“You do know there are musicals out there other than the Beatles, right?” The drummer mentioned, appearing beside John as Patricia went to purchase the record. The blue-eyed man looked to John, smiling gently as he bumped their shoulders together. “Have a bit of fun?” 

“A bit,” He admitted. It was certainly nice to play again, even if it was just for a short while. John shifted slightly, pushing his hands into his pockets as he waited for his cousin to finish.

“Are you going to the party as well tonight?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Did Patricia not tell you?” A blond brow perked upwards with curiosity and those blue eyes left John just for a moment to look over his shoulder at where his cousin was standing. “My flatmates are throwing a party. You should come.” 

“Oh.” Patricia hadn’t mentioned anything, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to. She was full of surprises lately. John could never tell if she was going to pretend like he didn’t exist in her world or if she’d drag him along like he had today. “I’m not a party goer.” 

“Oh come on. It’ll be fun.” He turned as Patricia came beside them, record in hand. “Bring him tonight. That’s an order.” 

“And who says I have to listen to you?” Patricia snorted, standing tall in her heels, nearly a head above the other man. 

A smirk came across those red lips as the dirty blond swayed ever so slightly. “I saw you hanging with my mates at the fair. I could put a word in.” 

Patricia rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “I don’t need help from a man to get what I want.” 

“If you want access to that California Sunshine without using any coin, you do.” The guy replied, his smirk deepening. 

Patricia’s face fell suddenly and another, more annoyed, roll of her eyes took place. “Whatever,” She muttered. 

“Better head out. See you tonight,” With a smile and a wink, the drummer left the store, leaving John more baffled than anything. 

Patricia spent a good portion of the rest of the day trying to persuade John to go to that party with her. He didn’t know why she cared so much, especially since she didn’t plan on inviting him in the first place. “It’s not your scene. After what happened at the Fantasy Fair, I didn’t want to drag you into another awkward situation.” 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” John argued from where he sat on the edge of her bed.

“It could be fun. You never know you may meet someone terribly quiet and offensively sophisticated just as yourself.” 

John scoffed, sending a short glare over to his cousin. Patricia turned in her seat to face him. She had been at her vanity, finishing her makeup to go along with her outfit. She fit very well into that hippie style, very flowy and fresh and free. 

“Look, my parents aren’t going to let me go if you don’t come with me and Meddows made it very clear he wouldn’t be hooking me up with his friend if you don’t show. Do you really want me to stay home and mope?” 

“Meddows?” 

“The drummer. We travel in the same circles.” Patricia mentioned dismissively. “I promise after this I’ll leave you alone. Just one little party. Pretty please, John?” 

He could have very easily said no and Patricia could have very easily lied to her parents and said she was going out to the movies with some female friends, but neither did that. Instead, he allowed his cousin to drag him along to this house party, listening to her endless amount of advice along the way. 

He wasn’t to drink anything that was given to him by anybody other than her. In fact, he wasn’t allowed to accept anything given to him. If someone asked him what he thought about Johnson or what was going on with Vietnam, he was to ignore the question altogether. By the sound of it, John felt like he would be just shoved in the corner and forced to stay in the shadows until it was time to go home. 

The party itself was far smaller than the concert they had gone to, but a good amount of people had arrived. The loft wasn’t extremely small, but they all decided to squeeze into the sitting room, where they sat around and listened to music and drank and smoke. Some people were stuffed onto the couch while others used the free space to stand to dance together. The bedrooms were off-limits, though that didn’t stop some people from disappearing off to hide out in there to do who knows what. 

Correction, John did know what was happening there. Premarital sex and drug usage. He wasn’t an innocent lad who couldn’t touch his own cock. He may not have done anything more than kissing and handjobs but John wasn’t naive to believe things like that didn’t take place during parties like these.

Patricia had introduced him to a few people that were a bit less than eccentric. They were mostly harmless, speaking about poetry and other forms of art. John had heard the term beatnik a time or time since he arrived in the States, mostly by his uncle making harsh comments here and there towards some of the flower power movement members. 

They were harmless, to say the least, though they weren’t the type that John would normally settle himself with. Pushing out of the inner circle, John went to toss his empty cup into the nearby trash. His cousin had sat him down, given him a beer that she poured herself, and went off to be with her own group. 

It felt terribly similar to how it had been at the concert, even to the point where John felt himself feeling ill from the alcohol intake. He tried to find a bathroom but wound up empty. He made his way through the halls, stumbling into a bedroom where two people were having a private party of their own. They didn’t notice him, however, and he made his way over to the window. He stood there, trying to ignore the obscene moaning and groaning behind him. 

There was a fire escape just out the window and John went for it, thankful that hit thin frame could easily be bent this way and that way as he slipped out the window. He climbed up, going up and up, trying to get away from the noise and the people until he was on the roof of the building. 

“Well, hello there.” John turned, finding the familiar dirty blond that had requested his appearance in the first place. “Talk about a grand entrance. Did you climb the fire escape?” 

John didn’t answer. His head wasn’t as heavy as it had been when he smoked at the fair, but his stomach was turning violently just the same. 

The drummer seemed to notice this and came to his side, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” John lifted his eyes, catching those sparkling blues easily and that seemed to be enough. The drummer used that hand on his shoulder to turn him around and bend him over the side of the roof just as he began to throw up. 

The stomach acid burnt his throat in the worst way, but when he was finished he felt fantastic. He had never drunk beer in England, finding that he much preferred wine or just tea. American beer tasted like garbage, but he drank until his cup was empty, finding that if his mouth was used for something other than talking, then the other party-goers would mostly ignore him. 

“That’s it. Let it all out.” The drummer muttered, his hand running up and down John’s back soothingly. 

This was the second time they had ended up like this. With John throwing up in a public place and the other man was standing close, helping him adjust to the aftermath. 

When he finished, he turned back and collapsed to the ground, his face hitting the pavement below. He let out a loud groan, wincing as the blond came to his aid. “Hey, hey. You’re all right. Just a scratch.” He muttered carefully. 

Moving to sit back against the wall, John pressed his hand to his cheek. Just another addition to the scars he would be carrying when he left this place, both physical and mental. 

The blond joined him, a sad smile on his lips as he looked him over. “You weren’t lying when you said this wasn’t your thing.” 

John shook his head, taking a slow breath. No, he didn’t like loud parties where people were dancing to music that shouldn’t be danced to. He didn’t like events that had rooms for people to sneak away to fuck into. He didn’t like drinking beer or smoking weed or popping pills. John knew he was a loser and he was fine with that. 

“We can stay here. Not really my crowd either.” 

John looked the blond over. He was dressed to impress, just like he had been at the Fantasy Fair. His hair was pushed back and his shoes were sparkling. John didn’t even know where you could buy sparkly shoes but he didn’t bother to ask. This crowd, whether or not fit this man, was in his home and yet he was high up here on the roof. 

“Why are you hiding?” He muttered quietly. 

“Not really hiding. Came up to have a smoke. No one ever comes up here; I think they’re all afraid of heights.” He jutted his chin forward, gesturing to the edge of the roof. "Got caught up looking at the view. Besides, I didn’t think you’d become.” He let out a shy shrug, twisting at the rings he wore on his fingers. 

“Here I am,” John muttered, sounding as miserable as ever. 

There he was true. In a country that was on his own, on a rooftop of an apartment complex he didn’t live in. Sitting with a man he barely knew and yet gave more care to him than his own cousin had. He couldn’t get angry at Patrica. She had her own life to live and babysitting him wasn’t apart of it. At this point, John just wanted to crawl back to his aunt's house and stay inside for the next week until he could return home and go back to living the life he felt comfortable in. 

“I can take you home if you like.” The man offered. 

There was no reason to stay. What was he there for? So Patricia could be with her friends, get high and for the blond to have some company? To make it seem like he is having fun and that his aunt did her job and his mum didn’t have to worry about him? John felt like he was out and about for the sake of everybody around him, but not himself. 

“Can’t leave without Patricia.” He muttered. 

If he returned without her, his uncle would have her head. And while he knew they weren’t friends, John didn’t want to spend the next week with her hating him. 

“I’m sorry I made her bring you.” The blond too him, turning into him slightly. “Thought . . . I don’t know what I thought. I should have kept my mouth shut.” 

“Not your fault,” John grumbled. “Like Patricia said: I’m not much for fun.” 

The man scoffed, waving him off with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t believe that. Everybody is fun. Just in their own ways. I’m sure whatever it is you do for fun is just fine.” 

John thought about it. What exactly did he do? He performed with The Oppression, but that was just until he was finished with his schooling. He adored tinkering about with machines, but that was more so he could follow his career path. Other than that he was just . . . boring. 

“I play in a band but . . . I won’t for much longer.” John confessed to him. 

The blond raised another brow, his head tilting slightly. “Why not?”

“I am going to go to school. Studying electrical engineering. I like to tinker.” 

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep playing. I’m going to Uni in the fall. Dentistry.” 

John didn’t know why, but he found himself smiling at that. “You’re going to be a dentist?” 

“Don’t make fun of me, mate. It’s pathetic enough.” 

The brunet shook his head, sitting up against the wall. “No, no. I’m not. You’d . . . you’ll make a wonderful dentist, I’m sure.” 

It was darker on the roof, with only the lights of the moon and the city across the way keeping things in sight. John could have sworn the cheeks of the blond darkened slightly, but he just couldn’t be sure. 

“Planning for over a year to be able to make this trip. Thought: if I was going to throw my life away to be a man of business I would have a bit of fun first.” 

“My mum shipped me out here with my sister. I don’t think she wanted us around.” John knew he was talking a lot. Far more than he ever would if he hadn’t drunk. He wasn’t drunk, but a bit tipsy and the man beside him made him feel comfortable enough to say things he may regret. 

“I couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting you around,” The blond chuckled softly, bending his knees up to rest his arms onto them as he slouched forward. “My dad gave me the money to come here. Well, he gave me money after graduation. Thought I’d put it into my tuition but I got a scholarship so I used it on this instead. He and my mum are divorced.” 

“Do you get along?” 

The blond shook his head, keeping his eyes straight. “Wasn’t always nice when I was a kid.” 

John’s own father had been wonderful. A bit old fashioned, but he was kind and supported John with everything. He was lucky to have him for the short time he did. John fell silent for a moment, easily comforted by the lull in the conversation as his eyes dropped slightly. 

“Lemme take you home.” The blond requested softly. In any other situation, it would have been seen as a come-on, something quiet and seductive. John had never been hit on before, but he imagined that was what it was meant to be like. A gorgeous person wanting to take you home with them or go to your home instead. 

But they were at the blond’s home and John felt terrible. This wasn’t flirting. It was the blond trying to be kind to him during a pathetic moment of his life. “We could go down. Find Trish if you want.” 

John wanted to argue that his aunt and uncle would be confused by him coming home so early, but he was tired and could easily make an excuse of sorts. Bobbing his head, John watched as the blond swiftly stood, once again taking his hand to pull him to his feet. He had never held hands with another male before and found it far different from with girls. 

His fingers were calloused and tender like his own, tarnished from the constant playing they both did. Rather than using the fire escape, they went through the door that the blond had jimmied open. “I’d offer to let you crash here, but I don’t think the party will be ending any time soon.” He explained as they made their way back down, stopping when they reached his apartment. 

“Wait,” John paused, touching the blond’s shoulder with his hand. “Leave her. She’s doing her own thing. Doubt she even realizes I’m gone.”

“Chances are she’s already lost on the yellow sunshine,” The other man confessed, pausing for a moment to pat himself down. “I’m going to grab the keys to the car. Just wait here, yeah?” 

The blond disappeared back into the apartment, leaving John outside on his own. He leaned back against the wall, counting down the moments for him to arrive. The lingering fear of being abandoned crept back into his mind and he worried that the beautiful blond would find someone else just as beautiful and would forget all about him.

Except he didn’t. In a flash he was back, smiling brightly as he pushed his glasses onto his face. Not tinted sunglasses like he had worn at the concert, but rather the kind needed for actual sight. “Shall we?” 

John followed him down, hopping into the passenger side of a very unimpressive car. American vehicles were more flashy than the ones they had in Europe those John had yet to see one that made him do a double-take. 

With just the address on hand, the two took their time going back to John’s aunt's place. They spoke the entire time, about a handful of things. Music, life, and just about everything in between. He mentioned some of the records he had back home and some he had hoped to purchase before he left. 

John had finally remembered the name that Patricia had stated, using it a couple of times before the blond finally put an end to it. “That’s not actually my name,” He confessed as they paused at a stoplight. “Well, it is, but it’s my middle name. My flatmate thought it was nice and began calling me it and since he’s rather popular, it seemed it stick. Actual name is Roger.” 

Meddows was a nice name. A flower power name that fit the man nicely, but there was something about Roger that just seemed to make sense. 

“My names John.” He confessed after a beat. “Rather plain, really.” 

“Maybe. But it suits you.” Roger answered, a coy smile dancing across his lips as the lights changed. 

The rest of the drive was rather quiet, with them just focusing on the music that was playing gently on the radio. John knew only a song or two, though he refused to sing along. He had a terrible voice and instead chose to just tap his foot to the beat. Roger, on the other hand, sang to his heart's content, not caring what time it was or what neighborhood they were in. 

Pulling up in front of the house, John pausing before he was to leave. He turned to Roger, offering a tight smile. “Do I look like I partied hard?” He asked, only teasing ever so much. 

“Like a rockstar,” Roger replied. 

His response got a genuine smile from the brunet. The movements of his cheek brought the reminder of the bruise he had received and he winced once more. 

Roger reached over, his hand gently cupping John’s cheek. “You’ll be all right. Maybe put a bit of ice on it before bed, yeah?” 

Roger’s thumb slowly traced along his cheek, over the small mark that rested there. It stayed there, lingering there. John kept his eyes on Roger’s, finding himself falling deep into those baby blue pool he had for eyes. He blamed the alcohol slowly leaving his system and how generally exhausted he was. Roger’s eyes left his own after a moment, flickering downwards. 

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was looking at and John found himself unconsciously licking at his lips that were now suddenly very, very dry. 

Roger’s hand trailed its way up to John’s face, those long fingers carding slowly through his long hair, pushing it back away from his face. Roger inched closer and in a flash, John was up and out of the car. 

He muttered a quick word of thanks, using those long legs he had been gifted with to hurry up the steps and into the house. It was locked, but he remembered his aunt telling him where the spare was. Fumbling about, John finally got the door open. Once inside, he went right for his bed, thankful that Patrick was fast asleep at this point. 

He didn’t stop to check to see if his aunt and uncle were still awake. He went right to the room, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into bed, not even bothering to change in the process. He laid awake, staring off into the darkness as he thought about those lips, and eyes, and hands. Roger haunted his mind as he finally drifted off, leaving John feeling very, very confused. 

When morning came John made his way down to the breakfast table. Patricia was there, looking worn out though she played it off well enough. John has no idea if she ended up getting high off whatever brand name drug was popular in the area or drank herself into a fit. He didn’t feel great but he wouldn’t call himself hungover. 

He spent the night tossing and turning, his mind running on wheels as he thought about how close Roger had been the previous night. 

John didn’t look his cousin in the eye at the table, allowing her to answer all the questions that his aunt and uncle shot at them. They believed it to be a small get together that ran a bit late. He had no idea if they realized he had come home before their daughter but it didn’t seem to matter now. John just pushes around his breakfast, finding that Americans ate far too much in the morning. 

He missed his toast or sausage with gravy. Here there were so many flapjacks and sticky syrup. Eggs upon eggs with greasy slaps of bacon. John’s stomach churned but he soldiered through it. 

When he finished he went back up to the room that had been given to him where he sat alone reading one of the books his uncle had lent him. There was a knock shortly after and Patricia entered into the room slowly. She leaned back against the door, just watching him for a moment. 

“Do you hate me?” She asked quietly. “I feel like the worst cousin in the world. Bad enough I lost you once but for a second time? That’s just sad.” 

“Both times I went off on my own. No reason to worry about it.” John answered her, keeping his eyes on the words through his mind had stopped recognizing them. 

Patricia was a young, beautiful woman who had a life of her own. She shouldn’t have to push it all aside and worry about her baby cousin and what trouble was coming his way.

“Meddows told me he took you home. Said you felt a bit off.” 

John wondered if the blond thought this because of how sick he had gotten from drinking or the fact that he fell flat onto his face, or because he pulled away from him. He felt fine after vomiting and his face barely has a mark on it, leaving with only the final suggestion. 

“His has names, Roger.” He told her, turning a page with his finger.

“Right. Well, you two seem to be getting along nicely.” John hummed in agreement. “It’s good to have friends.” She added quietly.

“Rightly so.” 

Patricia shifted the weight of her feet, those grayish-green eyes they both shared lingered onto John for what felt like forever. “You have one more week here, you know.” 

“Counting down the days until you can get rid of me?” John meant it was a tease but his tongue was sharp and to the point. 

Patricia accepted that and carried on, not even blinking at his actions. 

“You should make the most of if. Who knows when you’ll be in a place like this again.”

John knew it was true. San Francisco wasn’t like anywhere he had ever been to, especially not in England. And while London could certainly be wonderful, it couldn’t hold a camera to the sunshine state. John has no idea of or even any intentions on returning back here, finding that he had his full during the short time he was here. 

“Roger’s cute you know. For the pretty boy type.” 

John hummed, his fingers tightening on the book. John didn’t know if he had a type. Didn’t know who he liked or what he liked. All right, that was a bit of a lie. John was very precise with everything he did in his life. He drew lines in the sand and stood beyond them, knowing that life was meant to have boundaries and no one was supposed to cross them. 

He was a bit a perfectionist and he was quite fine with that. In fact, he loved it. He liked knowing exactly what to do and how to feel, which was why this trip was such a disaster for him. He felt so utterly helpless and unfocused that it could drive the young man bonkers. 

John didn’t respond to her calling Roger cute or a pretty boy. He was beautiful, that much was obvious. John had never seen such a lovely man before, but he was also so much more than that. He was kind and caring. He helped John twice already, more than anyone else had in quite a long time. 

John didn’t know where this conversation was going but deep in his soul, he could feel it wasn’t the type of conversation he’d want to have. Especially not with his female cousin who had continued to prove herself as nothing more than an unreliable source of entertainment. 

“He’s single too.” She added, causing the long brunet to roll his eyes. 

“Everybody is single here. You’re either single or married. If you’re not the latter then you’re free game.” 

Only a chosen few were exclusive John had realized in the short amount of time he stayed in the city. It wasn’t a bad thing but it certainly wasn’t his thing. 

“Not everybody is like that.” Patricia scoffed. “Sure, most people think monogamy is a dying trend but I think it’s real. Roger might as well.”

John hummed thoughtlessly, mostly ignore the whole situation. He knew what his cousin was trying to do and she wouldn’t allow it to happen. He didn’t want to be pushed into something that he certainly didn’t want. 

“We can talk about it, you know. I might be a shit cousin but in a pretty good listener.” 

“Nothing to talk about, Patricia.” The very last thing that John needed right now was for his cousin to pick and pry at his personal life and personal feelings. The things that went on in John’s mind were for him to deal with and him alone. 

“My parents are pretty oblivious,” Patricia mentioned suddenly. “Most of their generation is. They collect their milk bottles and go to church functions. Do they ignore the harsh things around them began its easier you know? But some things shouldn’t be ignored.” 

“Not everybody ignores them. Some people focus only on the bad and beat people down because of it.” 

“There are always going to be shitty people in the world, John. You can’t escape that. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t live the life you want to live. Look we only live once right? We should make the best of the time weave on this dying planet.”

“Are you finished?” 

Patricia pushed up off her seat, lifting her hands up innocently. “You’re only here for another week. After that, you’ll be home. Back in your small little town, living your small little life. Have fun while you’re here, John. Make some memories.” 

With that, Patricia left the room, allowing John his privacy until Patrick came in to gather up some of his toys. John has no idea what he was supposed to do. The things on his mind, they weren’t simple little actions. People were arrested for acting upon such dark feelings. And yet they didn’t feel dark. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt normal. Wanting to love a man the way he was supposed to love a woman. Wanting to feel the way a man felt and how a man kissed. 

Free love was supposed to be free but it wasn’t. It had the largest cost of all and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about what Patrica said. He was only there for one more week. He would be gone in only seven days, and yet it felt like a lifetime to him. 

The next day he found himself going back to the music store. He didn’t know what to expect, though Doug was more than happy to let him play again for free. “Just gotta wait for the little drummer boy to finish up.” 

“Mind if I go in and listen?”

“Whatever floats your boat, bass man.” 

Heading into the back room, John stared at the door. He knew the moment he opened it, there would be no going back. He would be at the point of no return, thrown caution to the wind and possibly have made the worst decision of his life.

And yet he couldn’t help but feel so fucking eager. 

Opening the door, his ears were filled with the sound of massive drumming and it took a moment for the blond to realize he had an audience. He stopped suddenly, placing his hand on the symbol to pause it. “Oh. Hello.” 

“Hi.”

Roger stood though he didn’t move around the drum kit. He remained in the back, the instruments between them. “How, ugh, how are you feeling?”

“Good.” He concluded. “Very good.” 

Roger bobbed his head, licking his lips as his fingers twitched against the drum sticks he was still holding. “Good. That’s good.” 

There was a moment of silence between them, neither of them making a move or saying a word. John decided to break it first, gesturing to the bass in the corner. “Wanna jam?” 

The smile on Roger’s face was infectious. With a wiggle of his brow, he sat back down, the tips of the drum sticks tinkering against the snare. “Let’s rock and roll, beautiful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Mari for the beautiful mood board!
> 
> Someone in my dealor GC (yes, I am in a group chat that constantly talks about Dealor -- be jealous) showed me a picture of John Deacon in 1967 and oh GOD he is a freaking infant. Please picture him at 1971 John please. Especially for all the next chapters because things are about to get dirty. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think. I live for those lengthy replies, you honestly have no idea!


	3. Happy Together

_** I can't see me lovin' nobody but you ** _   
_**For all my life** _   
_**When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue** _   
_**For all my life** _

John and Roger became inseparable after that. The brunet made it very clear that once the week was up he’d be back to England and all of this would be nothing more than something wonderful to look back and reflect on. 

“I want to make some memories, Roger,” John mentioned to him after their jam session. They were sitting outside, behind the music shop where they could be alone while Roger had a smoke. “Things that when I look back upon, I won’t regret.” 

The blond smiled behind his sunglasses, those pink lips that haunted John’s mind were wrapped do delicately around his cigarette. “I’ve always loved a challenge.” 

John didn’t know how determined the blond was to show John a good time, but he made it pretty obvious that making memories was something he was good at. After all, come the end of summer, Roger would be making his own way home; off to university for dentistry. He didn’t seem very keen on it, but perhaps that was just school in general. 

Roger was a smart guy, even John could see that. When you spoke, he listened carefully, giving you his full attention, but there was still that boyish charm to him. He just wanted to have a good time, while John was more calculated and careful with everything he did. 

Except for this time around, John knew he only had a few days left here. Then he’d be back home in his small little town, to his small little life. John wasn’t one to make a splash and create waves, but he wanted to be daring. Wanted to know that while he was sent away he didn’t just wallow in his own self-pity as he counted down the days when he could return back home. 

There was no better person to help him with that than Roger. The man somehow embodied the ability to be both carefree and careful at the same time. He knew very well that people weren’t going to be keen on two men walking down the streets holding hands or sharing a kiss on the corner, so he never tried anything while they were in public. 

To the strangers that saw them, they were just two friends spending the day together. Roger took him all around the city, showing him all the places that his aunt and uncle didn’t bother to show. There were beaches that were full of people in skimpy swimsuits and dozens of shops to go into. Roger mostly got his clothes second hand, though he preferred it that way. 

He was good at choosing pieces that showed off his body well and he saw very little point in spending a lot of money on that. 

“One day when I am making good money I’ll buy out every single store in this strip center,” Roger told him, puffing out his chest ever so proudly. 

John could almost see it. Roger, with his degree in dentistry walking through the halls of his office wearing the latest pieces. He’d look totally out of place and yet perfectly stunning all the same. 

Roger led him into the nearby park, settling down by one of the lakes. There were families out having lunch and ducks floating across the stream. Roger began plucking some of the long steamed flowers planted along the water's edge. They were yellow and cheerful and slowly the man began tangling the stems together, his fingers working ever so carefully until they were bound in a circle. 

Reaching forward, Roger placed the circle on top of John’s head, crowning him playfully. “You wouldn’t accept one at the Fantasy Fair, but now you have no choice but to take one.” 

“I wasn’t going to spend what little American currency I had on a bloody flower crown,” John teased, his fingers gently brushing against the soft petals. 

He leaned forward on his knees, looking at his reflection in the water. It was cute, to say the least, and fit his head rather well. 

“I would have accepted a different type of payment,” Roger murmured from beside him. John turned his head, catching Roger’s eyes as they looked over his kneeling figure. John’s cheeks turned a harsh scarlet and he was thankful for his long hair for hiding that.

“Of course you would,” John sat back up, moving to sit back and pull idly at the grass beside him. Roger went back to flower weaving, making himself a crown so they could match. It was silly and quite ridicules, though he didn’t mind much. 

They were young, and wild, and free; just living their lives for as long as they had them. 

Roger took hold of John’s camera, gleefully snapping pictures of the brunet. John had never liked to be the center of attention, so to have a camera shoved in his face was the last thing he ever wanted. Still, Roger was being flirty and playful and John gives in a time or two, giving a smile despite his deep blush and giving him a very proper model behavior look. 

They laid back against the grass then, the conversation going back and forth between their home lives. Roger’s mother was divorced and raised himself and his sister on her own, something Roger was very thankful for. He didn’t exactly know why he was going into dentistry, but his mum was proud of him for getting into the university and he didn’t want to let her down, even if the idea of it was very off-putting to the young man. 

John still had one more year left before he was to go off to uni, though he already had one in mind. It was a small school all the way in London, which was quite a hike for him, but he didn’t mind. Being away from his mum and sister would bring out a sense of independence that he was ready to experience. 

The conversation had fallen into a comfortable lull when small drops of water began to fall onto John’s face. His mind was fuzzy, having grown slightly sleepy from the warm sun and gentle breeze, and it took him a moment to realize it had begun to rain. 

With England being as rainy as it was known to be, a passing shower never bothered John much, but when they were in the middle of the park, completely unprepared, things turned out to be quite difficult. 

Roger took hold of John’s arm, both running off until they could find a place to hide out until the storm passed. There were willow trees across the way and Roger swift ducked inside, tugging John along with him. It wasn’t much, but it provided a makeshift shelter for the time being. 

Leaning back against the thick trunk of the tree, the two had themselves a laugh. They were positively drenched, with their clothing practically see-through now. Their hair was sticking to their faces and their skin was glistening as they had just popped out of the shower. The flower crowns sunk deeper into their heads, the petals weeping slightly. 

It was utterly ridiculous and absolutely wonderful. 

Roger took off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He ran his hand through his wet hair, brushing it back before doing the same to John. Those deft fingers that John admired carded through his dark hair, pushing it away from his eyes. 

Roger’s hand stayed in his hair before traveling down, his fingers carefully cupping his cheek. John thought back to a few nights ago when Roger held his face so slowly. The bruise he had gotten that night was healing easily, though that didn’t stop the blond from running his thumb softly across his cheek. John had bolted at that moment when he saw Roger moving closer and closer. 

John didn’t bolt this time. He didn’t run away. He remained still as Roger closed the gap between them and placing a small kiss onto his lips. It wasn’t the first for John. He had a girlfriend back at school and spent a good time kissing her. But it was boring and so was she; or perhaps it was boring because she was a she. John didn’t like to think much about it. 

Now he was kissing him and it wasn’t boring in the least. 

It started off carefully, with Roger being more cautious than John expected. He was testing out the waters, making sure this was okay. That John was okay. And he was. He really, really was. And to prove that, he pushed closer to Roger, stepping into his personal space and deepening the kiss. 

John liked to think he was a good kisser. He wasn’t shy and didn’t turn his face away to blush when they paused to take a breather. There was a playful glimmer in Roger’s eyes, those pink lips perked upwards in a delightfully peaceful smile. 

They pulled one another back in, kissing and kissing so happily. It wasn’t a rushed snog, full of passion and desire. They were two young men, enjoying the privacy as the rain fell around them. 

When the rain finally came to a holt, they were sitting back on the cool grass, tangled in one another. Their lips were pink and slightly swollen and their hands were linked, their fingers laced. John had never been one to feel the touch of another so easily. A hug or a handshake was one thing, but holding hands or feeling the gentle fingertips run slowly up and down his arm were something that John didn’t think he’d ever long for until now. 

They stayed like that for a long while, exchanging gentle kisses and playful nips before they grew too cold in there damp clothing. Untangling themselves, Roger led them out of the willow tree and back into the public eye. They walked back to his car, keeping a small distance as they did. 

It was slightly torturous, being so close and yet feeling so very far. It was for the better, however, and no matter how rebellious and daring John wanted to be in the next few days, he also knew he had to be careful. He wasn’t going to do anything that could cause all of this to come crashing down. 

When Roger drove him back to his aunts home, he didn’t give him goodbye. Not out in the open the way other couples would kiss. Instead, he gave him a small squeeze on his knee and the promise that they’d meet again tomorrow. 

John could only nod along and wait for the following day to come. John couldn’t remember waiting around for anything like this. Not for his own birthday or for Santa to come to bring presents, Christmas Eve. John was antsy, his leg jittering at the supper table. He tried to play it cool, shrugging off any question his aunt asked him. 

She was overly excited for John to be out of the house and meeting new people. His uncle was less than pleased that it was with someone Patricia had introduced him to since he found all of her friends to be incredibly immature and lazy. 

The eldest of the family just ignored him, refusing to get into another argument with the suit-wearing republican that was haphazardly raising her. Instead, she crowed John into her room under the guise of listening to some of the new tunes she picked up for her eight-track. She laid on her stomach on her bed, watching him eagerly and smiling like the Cheshire cat. 

She wanted all the details on what they had done, to gossips like two teenage girls about the high school football star giving away his signature pin and letterman jacket. 

John refused to say a word. After all, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. 

Patricia was disappointed, but not surprised. John wasn’t a shy lad, but he was quiet and mostly kept to himself. 

When the following day arrived, Roger once again had a whole day planned. The weather was still pretty shitty, but they made due, mostly driving around and finding places to stay dry. They opted to see an afternoon movie, both trying their best to choose a flick. John, still battling all this internalized sexism, refused to see anything that could possibly seem too poofy so they settled on the latest James Bond flick. 

They settled together in the back, surprised to find it far more packed than expected. John had to remind himself that it was summer vacation and that everybody was out and about, even during the weekdays. 

In the corner of his eye, he caught a young couple kissing and a tinge of jealousy warped inside his chest. John didn’t know if he could consider this to be a date between himself and Roger, but even if it was, they’d never have the chance to do as the other couple was. 

Kissing so carelessly out in the middle. John slouched down in his seat, munching down at the popcorn Roger offered. The blond seemed oblivious to the others snogging across the way, though at one point he did reach down to lace their fingers together. The theater was dark and their hands were hung low, giving them the privacy they needed to do something so simple and yet scandalous. 

When the film ended, they walked out feeling buzzed and jumpy. Roger was more of a fan of those types of films than John was, but the brunet was happy to tag along if it meant seeing the blond so hyped up on the action. 

After that, Roger showed him the joy of roach coaches, which provided them with deliciously inexpensive food. 

The food was greasy and heavy on the toppings, but that seemed to be the thing in America. Terribly disgusting, equally tasty. They go down by the water again. It wasn’t raining, though the seas were vicious in the most exciting ways. They watched the waves crash repeatedly on the shore, moving to sneak under to pier and sit in the sand. 

Roger had sprung to surprise them with ice cream cones, wanting John to get a taste of all the wonderful things San Francisco had to offer. They chattered easily, focusing mostly on one another rather than their sweet treat. 

John had gotten so distracted by what Roger was speaking of that he completely forgot about the cone slowly melting in his hand.

“Need some help there, mate?” Roger asked, gesturing to where the sticky liquid was dripping down his hand. 

Without another word, Roger took hold of John’s wrist, pulling it in so he could lick away the mess. He worked his mouth slowly, taking the cone and tossing it aside with his own so John’s hand was free to be cleaned. 

They were only a few yards from the water and while he could have very easily just gone and put his hand in the ocean to clean it up, Roger’s mouth seemed like the more appealing option. 

The blond worked his tongue along with John’s hand, popping each finger into his mouth to suck them slowly. John felt a tinge in his groin from watching him and if the look in Roger’s eye could translate into words, he knew he would say the same. 

“All clean,” Roger mentioned once John’s hand was free of the sticky substance. “Anything else you’d like me to lap up for you?” 

John swallowed hard, his teeth clenching. He was sure his cheeks were burning red or maybe worse, he was completely pale with the realization of what Roger was suggesting. He found how voice, however, which seemed heavier this time around. “I could think of something.” 

Roger smiled then, moving forward to kiss him for the first time since yesterday. His tasted like the sweet vanilla ice cream they had been sharing. A taste was all John got, however, because Roger swiftly began moving downwards, kissing along John’s jaw. 

The outfit he had chosen had a deep v neck that gave Roger more access to the pale skin that John possessed, though it was turning a flush pink with every kiss that Roger left across it. He moved carefully, keeping his lips at John’s neck while his hand fumbled with John’s belt and zipper, sneaking his hand inside. 

He dragged those wonderful fingers across his hardening member, moving past his cotton knickers to get full access to it. John wasn’t going to pretend that he was some innocent lad who only got down on his knees for the lord above. He was human, he was male, and took pleasure in things that were frowned upon in most places. Maybe it made him a sick beast, but in a moment like this, he just couldn’t care. 

John laid back in the sand, ignoring the graining feeling as Roger tugged at his jeans, pulling them down to have better access to his cock. Those callous fingers ran up and down his length as Roger bit at his neck, sucking on his pulse point like he was one of those horrible creatures in the black and white movies. 

Roger eventually moved from his neck and continued to go lower until lips were mouthing at the base of his cock, moving upwards slowly. “Such a pretty cock you have, John,” Roger muttered softly. 

How John didn’t shoot off right then and there was a miracle. But he lasted. By the grace of God, John survived having Roger taking him into his mouth, sucking tightly against his head while his hand worked on the base. 

It was obvious Roger had done this before and John was thankful for that. The last thing he wanted during his holiday was to die of embarrassment while they both fumbled about in the dark with very little idea what they were meant to be doing. 

Roger worked him carefully, giving an equal amount of attention with both his hand and his mouth, making sure all parts were covered. All the while John ran his own hand through Roger’s hair, tugging every so often when he felt himself falling closer to the edge. 

Roger picked up the speed then, humming more so the vibrations ran through from his lips down John’s cock in the most satisfying ways. He was toying with the brunet now and John was completely aware of it. He dug his heels into the sand, trying to hold off as much as he could but eventually push came to shove and John has to give in to the pleasure. 

He shot off into Roger’s mouth with nothing more than a strained whine as a warning. The dirty blond remained still, taking all that John had to give. He swallowed the hot liquid down, letting only a bit drip down his chin. He pulled off with a small pop, those pink lips swollen and glistening with spit and other juices. 

He licked away the mess, his hand coming up to wipe at his face to clean himself off. John remained where he laid in the sand, looking and feeling utterly wrecked. Roger moved to lay beside him, his head resting on his hand, looking oh so very casual. Like he has just been enjoying the crashing of the seas and not sucking on another mans dick. 

“Certainly one way to spend the evening.” He commented, smiling boyishly.

If John had the strength to move, he would have thumped him right across the head. Instead, he just laid back in the sand, allowing the soothing sounds of the waves across the way to pull him back into the comfortable, post-orgasm lull. 

A tiny voice in John’s head if they had jumped into things too quickly. When he got his first girlfriend, they didn’t kiss until two weeks of courting. And then their more advanced kissing didn’t come along until a while after that. John was very sure and very thorough and yet there they were, just days of knowing one another, doing things John had never done before. 

He tried to remind himself that they didn’t have time to wait, that once the week was up they’d never see each other and that was either play it safe or throw caution to the wind. And John was very determined to do the latter. So any possibility of feeling unsure or worrying that this was a mistake was swallowed down and forgotten about the moment they were together. 

When John returned home, he was ambushed by Patricia, who had spotted him coming inside. Roger had left him with more marks on his neck than expected and the presence of his long hair wasn’t enough to cover them. 

With her compact in hand, Patricia covered them up, reminding John that while fooling around was fun, getting caught was a whole other ball game. So he had to either wise up or come out before both of them were found out. 


	4. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

**_ Is this a lasting treasure _ **   
**_Or just a moment's pleasure_ **   
**_Can I believe the magic of your sighs_ **   
**_Will you still love me tomorrow_ **

On the third day into his last week, John’s uncle put his foot down about him going out. The last thing he needed was John getting involved with the wrong crowd and having to explain to his sister in law that her son was to return to England tainted in one way or another. 

John tried to argue, insisting that the friend he was meeting was just showing him around, but his uncle didn’t care. He knew the crowd that his daughter hung out with and he didn’t want the same to happen to his nephew. 

His mum had always mentioned that the man her sister married was a bit of a stern fellow and while he took good care of her financially, his aunt Petunia was always a bit more of a free spirit compared to his mother. That shined through even now, though having a husband that constantly put you in a corner couldn’t have been helpful to the situation.

Roger and he had planned on meeting at the music store but John never made it. He sat up alone in his young cousin's bedroom, staring up at the pale-colored ceiling as he tried not to feel bad about himself. He knew it was pathetic, wanting to spend every single day with someone he barely knew. It was silly and childish. Even if he had already spent a week with these people, they were his family. He should be cherishing the time he had left with them and not moping about some boy. 

John pulled himself up off the bed when he heard his aunt calling his name. He stomped down reluctantly, making his way down the stairs and into the foyer where Patricia and his aunt was standing. They weren’t alone, however. Roger was standing with them, smiling easily despite his uncles looming glare off from the corner. 

He was dressed a tad nicer than he had the recent times they were together and his hair was combed back away from his face. He looked presentable, John realized. Utterly gorgeous, like always, as well. 

“Roger. What are you doing here?” He asked, reaching the final step of the staircase. 

“To see you. I got an extra ticket to a show tonight and thought you’d like to join me. Johnny Mathis is playing at a venue I work at and I thought we could check him out.”

“John’s staying in tonight. He’s spending quality time with his family.” John’s uncle answered him, eyeing Roger ever so carefully. 

“Oh,” Roger spoke, his eyelashes fluttering innocently. “Of course. Shame. I’d hate to go alone.” He turns then, looking to his aunt with a boyish glance. “You wouldn’t be interested, would you? Pretty good seats. Great view.” 

“Oh well . . . we couldn’t.” 

“You sure? They’ll go to waste otherwise. I hate going to shows alone.” 

John’s aunt smiled then, looking to her husband with an excited gleam. “We haven’t seen a show in years. And you know I do like Johnny Mathis.” 

“Of course you do. He’s a damn faggot just like that Liberace fella you like so much,” his uncle rolled his eyes, unaware of how John flinched at the slur he made to easily. 

Roger, on the other hand, made no sign of discomfort, containing to hold the tickets out for them to take. Finally, his uncle budged, giving in and snatching the tickets from the younger man’s hand. “Do you live here permanently?” He asked Roger as his wife went off to fix her makeup and change. 

“Just visiting before starting university,” Roger answered smoothly. 

“What field are you going into?” 

“Dentistry, sir.” 

His uncle hummed thoughtfully. “Patricia here is undecided.”

“I already told you I’m joining the Peace Corps after graduation.” She answered back. 

“Do that and you won’t see a penny; I won’t have my daughter running off trying to save the third world while the one she lives in is thriving.” 

“That’s why I want to go! We have enough resources and do nothing about it.” Patricia argued.

“Enough.” Her father bellowed. “No more of this hippie-dippy nonsense. You’re staying in and watching your siblings. Both of you are.” 

“Would you mind if I joined?” Roger asked carefully. “I have a kid sister myself. She’s back in Cornwall with my mum but I’ve babysat her well enough to know how to handle children.” 

“By all means, but if there is any funny business going on, I won’t hesitate to hand you over to the proper authorities.” 

Roger lifted his hands in defense, allowing John’s uncle to get a good look to him. He wasn’t dressed as peaceful power as Patricia was. He wasn’t wearing business style clothing, but the outfit of choice looked good on him. Eventually, his uncle went up to change as well and John led Roger to sit on the couch. “Trish rang my flatmate and told tell me what happened. Figured I could wiggle my way into their good graces so we’d be able to hang.” Roger confessed with a cheeky smile. 

“Aren’t you clever,” John mentioned, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “Did you pay for those tickets?”

Roger shook his head proudly. “I’m a bit of an in-house roadie for the venue. I get tickets to any show that didn’t sell out. Figured if you couldn’t do, they would want to.” Roger admitted with a smirk. “My mum always did say I was a charmer.” 

“All right lovelies! I want you all to be on your best behavior. We won’t be out too late.” 

“Oh! If you speak to the manager Rick and give my name, you may be able to meet Mr. Mathis. Tell them Roger sent you.” The dirty blond added with a bright grin.

“You, Roger, are too sweet for words.” John’s aunt replied. She went around, giving kisses to her children, niece, and nephew before dragging her disgruntled husband off for their date. 

Roger explained that his flatmate had gotten him the job for the small amount of time he was there. He did behind the scene work at the theatre, helping out fixing amps and getting the band set up. Sometimes he’d do a backup on drums if they needed him though for the most part, it was just coming in, setting up, and heading home. 

Roger leaning back on the couch as he threw an arm dangerously close to John. “Did you miss me?” He added, his smile widening.

John rolled his eyes promptly, turning to face forward and watch whatever game his sister and cousins were playing. 

“It’s all right. You don’t have to answer. I missed you though, in case you were wondering.”

“You two can head out if you want. I can handle them.” Patricia plopped down onto the armchair across the way, lazily stretching out as she got comfortable.

John rubbed at his jeans with the heel of his hands. Sneaking out sounded so tempting but he didn’t want to take the risk of his aunt and uncle returning and not finding him there. 

“We can stay in if you like. Just hang out.” Roger suggested, noticing John’s hesitation. “I wasn’t lying when I said I took care of my little sister. Kids love me.” 

To prove his point Roger knelt on the ground and crawled over to where the younger kids were playing and joined in on their game. Roger was, in fact, serious when he said he was good with children, mostly due to being one himself on the inside. He played their game, sticking his tongue out and doing other cheeky actions that got Patrick, Pamela, and Julie laughing. John mostly sat back with Patricia just watching them before they decided to join in. 

They played board games and Roger told them silly stories. John half expected him to slip in something dirty that would go right over their heads, but he never did. He was as sweet as a lamb the entire time and entertained the kids to no end. 

Patricia left the house in her car, taking some money from the rainy day jar to grab them McDonald's, letting the two-run the house. Patrick and Pamela have been begging for the burger joint since John has arrived and now was the time to finally have it. 

“American cuisine, quite interesting yes?” Roger asked when Patricia returned, pulling out all the items she had purchased. They munched down on fatty burgers and salty fries, leaving John feeling full and comfortable. He tried not to stare as Roger licked at his fingers, cleaning away the food residue with a pop. 

They played more games and had legitimate quality time together before Patricia insisted that the younger kids head to bed. “You don’t have to sleep but if mom and dad find you down here, they’ll have my hide.” She insisted, chasing her siblings and young cousin to the stairs. “Pajamas and teeth brushed! Don’t make me check on you!”

“I better head out,” Roger mentioned, standing from the couch. 

“What’s the rush?” Patricia asked innocently. She plopped down on the bed, taking out one of her mothers magazines and flipping it open to a random page. “I have a new piece for my eight-track. Why don’t you show him, John?” 

John exchanged a look between Patricia and Roger, doing what was suggested to him. He brought the blond up to his cousin's bedroom, going over to the eight-track in the corner. “I don’t know how to use this,” he admitted. “Patricia won’t let me fiddle about with it. Worried I may pry it apart.” 

“Wouldn’t you?” Roger asked, coming up behind him. He turned John around so they were facing one another. “I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you. When you didn’t come today I thought you were over this.” 

There was a pure sincerity in Roger’s tone that caught the other male off. He wasn’t used to people wanting him around. Sure, he had friends back home and his band, but even to them he knew he was pretty forgettable. Here was someone who barely knew him and yet genuinely seemed saddened by the possibility of him not being around. 

It touched John in a way that he didn’t want to deal with right now. Not when Roger was right in front of him, just a touch away. 

“I’m sorry. I tried to go, I did. My uncle thought . . . didn’t matter what he thought. I’m sorry for what he said before.” John knew there were people in the world who could use such cruel language but to have it said so casually was what burnt John the most. Like his uncle didn’t see gay people as people but just another group worthy of a slur. 

“I don’t let that shit bother me,” Roger told him. “Let people think what they want. Nobody can judge me but myself.” 

“How insightful,” Joe teased, watching him carefully. Roger looked so relaxed, so in his element despite being in a strangers room. “I’m glad you came over.” 

“Your cousin gave us a moment of privacy,” Roger said, moving closer to him. “We should make the most of it.” 

They had previously been intimate under a tree during the rain and beneath the pier by the rolling tide. It had all been adventurous and exciting and John couldn’t regret a thing about it. And yet despite having Roger go down on him practically in public, the idea of having sex in his cousin's room just rubbed John the wrong way. 

Patricia might not have been the best cousin during his time here but spoiling her bed just seemed cruel. 

“We can’t . . . not here.” John muttered, looking around shyly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re unsure about,” Roger swore, his hand running slowly up and down John’s arm. 

John knew this was meant to be a passing fling, but he could see that Roger was taking this as seriously as he was. He wanted to make memories without regrets. Feelings were welcome, even if they were fleeting. John couldn’t imagine ever regretting anything with Roger.

“I want to. I do. Just . . . not in Patricia’s room.” 

Roger snickered then, looking around the place. It was full of peace signs and anti-war posters. She had a plant in the corner and a small pile of books that she’d read at the supper table during breakfast. 

“Technically, she’s had sex in mine,” Roger mentioned. “She and my flatmate are rather close.” 

John knew he wasn’t in the position to judge his cousin. She had her own life and she had a right to make her own choices. Patricia wasn’t the little girl who would sell cookies in their neighborhood. She took drugs and wanted to join the peace corps. She went to music festivals and was very liberal on women’s rights. Finding out that she was having sex wasn’t a surprise to John in the least. Especially since she offered up her room to them.

“We can have fun in other ways. I can certainly think of a few things to keep us busy.” 

John could have thought of a few things too. Things he wanted to do to and with this man in the short time they had left together. John made the first move this time around, breaking the space between them so he could smash his lips onto Roger’s. He kissed him for a moment, pausing only so he could turn in the eight-track, allowing the room to be filled with music to drown out the sounds they were certain to make.

They made their way to Patricia’s bed, falling onto it easily. Their tongues tangled and hands grabbed, each trying to get a sense of one another without taking their clothes off. John’s fingers tugged at Roger’s fly, finally getting it loose as he popped the button of his jeans. 

His hand snuck into the opening, his long fingers gently grazing Roger’s dick. The only never John had ever touched was his own, but to him, that was a good thing. Giving himself a good wank every now gave him the chance to get used to the idea of being sexual with other people. He knew what felt good for himself and while that was different for everyone, something told John that Roger wouldn’t protest to him jerking him off the same way he would in the darkness of his bedroom at home. 

He touched him carefully, just testing the waters, all while Roger’s jeans and knickers were pushed down ever so slightly. John refused to have them bare-assed on his cousin's bed for obvious reasons. Their lips continued to tangle and twist just as his hand did the same. He worked Roger from top to bottom, hoping the blond didn’t care that his hand was rough from his constant playing. 

John wasn’t a fan of using picks while playing the bass and chose to instead kick his fingers and put up with the pain that came from it so long as the song sounded good. 

He spits in his hand a few times, not wanting to give the man a dry handjob when they such a short time together and made sure to make it good for both of them. After all, if Roger could be giving, so could John. 

His mouth traveled down from Roger’s, sucking lightly on his neck to mark him just as Roger had done to him. The blond took the chance to vocalize just how wonderful this was for him. 

“Christ John. Your hand is bloody magic,” 

John snickered against his skin, his teeth digging into Roger’s groan, making him cry out in pleasure. John took the notice and began sucking a bit harder, working for his hand just a bit faster. Roger’s hand clenched against John’s shoulder, holding him close as his hips jerked upwards ever so often. 

Piece by piece the blond began to break away and the tension slowly started fading away. John was thankful for the music filling the room as it muffled out the sound of Roger’s wailing as he was pushed off the ledge of pleasure. He finished across John’s hand and his stomach, the streams of whitest spunk soiling them both.

They laid together panting, with John too afraid to move, fearsome that he would make a mess of the sheets. 

“Fantastic,” Roger muttered sleepily. “Bloody fantastic.” 

Lifting his head, he caught sight of John wiping his hand onto his shirt and reached out to stop him. Without a word, he brought John’s hand close to his mouth so he could lick away his release. John’s cock twitched in response and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop him from moaning aloud. 

“Is that a thing for you?” John asked breathlessly. “Sucking on my fingers.” 

“Among other things,” Roger replied, a hungry glimmer sparkling in his eyes.

They broke away after that, with Roger removing his shirt to clean himself up. John went off to Patrick’s room, finding the young boy asleep in his bottom bunk, and grabbed them each a shirt to wear. 

Patricia appeared in the doorway of her room once they had finished changing, informing them that her parents were home. The two males hurried down the stairs after her, the three of them piling onto the couch together. John jumped to the floor, going to tinker with the tv dials and lay across the carpet on his stomach, giving the illusion that they were all simply caught up in whatever the screen had settled on. 

When his aunt and uncle entered, they all said their hellos. His aunt raved about the concert and getting to meet Mr. Mathis while John’s uncle told them to end the television watching and go to bed.

Roger thanked them for allowing him to stay home before hurrying out the door, promising John and Patricia he would see them around. John thought about walking him to his car so they could have one more ounce of privacy but he very much doubted that his uncle would allow that. So instead he watched him slip through the door before reluctantly following his cousin back up the stairs. 


	5. All My Loving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very stressed and very tired due to real-life shit so I thought I'd surprise all of you by updating sooner.

**_Close your eyes and I'll kiss you._ **   
**_Tomorrow I'll miss you._ **   
**_Remember I'll always be true._ **   
**_And while I'm away I'll write home every day._ **   
**_And I'll send all my loving to you._ **

The following day, Patricia once again outdid herself by helping her cousin be alone with his special friend. Since her father was very persistent on John not being around the same group of people she was, she came up with an elaborate plan to get them out of the house. 

She insisted that poor Julie didn’t have any decent clothing to bring home with her. Sure, the things she had packed were lovely, but that wasn’t enough. She should be able to return to that sleepy town in England with so many new things to show off. And after convincing her mother that a girls shopping day was what the cousins needed, the woman easily passed on her husband's credit card. 

John followed into town because was something to do with his aunt stayed behind with Patrick. When they arrived in town, Patricia promptly told John to get lost so she could spend the day with Pamela and Julie, spending her father’s money and going against his back at the same time. 

With his cousin's suggestion, John went down the lane, checking out a few shops of his own. He had a bit of money to spend and wouldn’t mind having a few things of his own to show off when he returned home. He wore a uniform for school, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look good outside of the place. 

He found a few things that interested him, holding them carefully in his hand as he searched for a dressing room. He found the small space in the corner with a thick sheet for privacy. He was about to reach for it when a hand grabbed him and yanked him forward. John barely had a chance to gasp or even yelp before a pair of lips were on top of his own, silencing all his sounds. 

John instantly recognized the feeling and swiftly melted into the kiss, his own hands dropping the clothing he had picked out onto the floor and moved up to wrap around the skinny body pressed against his own. 

“Miss me, Deacy?” Roger asked, his voice a mere whisper. 

“How did you find me here?” San Francisco was a large city, perhaps even more so than London, and yet Roger continued to find his way around and spot the brunet every time he went out. 

“Your cousin told me she’d be taking you all shopping in the late afternoon,” Roger answered him, going to lean back against the wall. He pushed his pointer fingers through John’s belt loops, pulling him in close. “Just stayed around the area until I spotted you. Thought I’d pop in and say hello, but I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss.” 

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” John mentioned, his grey eyes flickering away from Roger’s blue, settling on the pink lips that had quickly become his obsession. 

“Something tells me you like a bit of trouble,” Roger ventured, pushing off the wall so he could press those lips to John’s once more. 

They stayed in the small corner, hidden behind the curtain where they kissed and kissed for a good while. Eventually, the sounds of other shoppers had them moving along; the clothes that John had picked out left on the floor, completely forgotten. 

“What shall we do today?” Roger asked as they got back out onto the street. “You’ve seen the beaches and the shops. We could go to the music store again. Have another jam session.” 

“Whatever you want, Roger.” 

The dirty blond paused, turning to face him. They weren’t touching, not out here where the rest of the world could see them, but they were standing close together. “This is your holiday, John. Only a few days left. I want you to enjoy it.” 

“I enjoy everything I do with you.” The brunet insisted, shifting from one foot to the other. 

John might have been mistaken, but he could have sworn that a bit of a blush crept across Roger’s face then. Perhaps it was just the sun heating up the skin, but he liked to think he made an impact on the man. 

“Come on. I have an idea.” Roger said, nodding back towards the lane. 

John followed where Roger led, which happened to be a small, hole in the wall restaurant. He bought them their deal, once again refusing to take any of John’s money. He got it to go, bringing John back to his car and out of the city, and up to the loft that the party had been thrown back not that long ago. 

Now the noise was gone and the loft was empty. Roger explaining that his flatmates were gone for the day, so they had the place to themselves. Setting on the couch, Roger unloaded their meal, which to John’s surprise turned out to be English styled fish and chips. Roger fiddled about with the tv, pausing for a moment when he remembers something. 

“You like electronics, right?” Roger mentioned, suddenly leaving the room. When he returned, he plopped a cardboard box down in front of him. “Bought this a while back for pennies, hoping I could fix it but that’s all out of my element.” He explained. “Think you could give it ago?”

John looked up at Roger, staring at him the way a young child would stare at a new bike or transit they had received on Christmas morning. “I could try.” He replied, setting off to work. 

It had been so long since John had actually put anything together. It was his main source of entertainment before the bass came along, though now he was considering doing the fiddling as an actual career path. 

The parts that Roger had given him all when to a small amplifier, which in John’s opinion, had seen better days. Roger had given him a few tools he knew they had hanging around the loft and within an hour, John was finished. 

“Don’t know if it will be that loud, but it should work now,” John mentioned, sliding the put-together amp over to him. 

“You’re a God-send, Deacy! A real treasure,” Roger praised. 

John plopped back onto the couch, popping a few soggy chips into his mouth. He had gone back and forth between eating and fixing, putting most of his focus on the amp in the end, though it was well worth it. 

Roger moved closely to him, the tip of his nose tickling at John’s cheek. “However shall I thank you?” 

John flushed, his half-eaten meal sitting on the coffee table forgotten about. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” He murmured. 

Their eyes locked and in seconds they were back to kissing. Lazy snogging that filled up all their senses and left John feeling dazed and loopy. At one point Roger took hold of his hips and pulled him to straddle his thighs, those large drummer hands holding him close as their tongues twisted and tangled in the sloppiest of ways. 

One of those hands moved downwards, fingers digging into the denim of John’s pants to get to the softness of his bottom. The brunet let out a whisper of a growl, his teeth biting into Roger’s bottom lip, tugging it playfully. 

Roger was well aware that John had never done anything like this, as they had previously spoken about it. He didn’t want to get hot and heavy and then spring the truth on him. Roger had admitted that he was with three people, one back in Cornwall and then two since he arrived in the states. All of which were one night stands. It was the time of free love and being attached to someone just wasn’t a thing anymore. 

“I’m not flaunting myself to anyone who will take me. I sleep with people because they keep my attention, even if it’s just for a short while.” Roger had confessed to him during one of their many deep conversations.

Roger wasn’t someone John had ever expected would be able to hold a conversation. At first glance, he was just a brainless hippie, too burnt out to even speak, but the better he got to know him, the more he realized how smart he was in so many different ways. 

John had no judgment towards him. While he could never imagine being intimate with someone just for one evening, but he also understood why some people did it. Sometimes you just needed that special feeling that only another person could give, even if it was from a stranger. 

Roger wasn’t a stranger. Not anymore at least. John didn’t know what to call him. They weren’t courting one another, they were _boyfriends_ , but they had a connection. One that John didn’t want to let go of just yet. 

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for,” Roger promised, his hands sliding back to John’s waist. 

John shook his head, knowing he didn’t want to wait any longer. He didn’t want to go home, all the way across the seas, knowing he didn’t do anything worthwhile because he was too ashamed or afraid to be his real self. This holiday was meant to be something special and John wanted to take advantage while he could.

“No. I want this.” John reassured him, grey eyes flickering to the brightest of blues. “I want you.” 

Roger pauses for a moment, his jaw churning as he thought it over. “All right.” He spoke at last. He leaned upwards, kissing John once more. John fell into the kiss easily, sighing softly into Roger’s mouth.

They stayed like that for a short while, each taking the time to strip away their clothing. Neither was in any real rush, with Roger taking the leading role. John had never imagined that this would be how he lost his virginity, out in the states, in an open sitting room with a handsome man touching him all over. It was wild and completely out of the blue, but he loved it nonetheless. 

Roger pushed him down onto the couch then, leaving the brunet stunned as the dirty blond went off to fetch a condom from his bedroom. When he returned, Roger pounced on him, his lips on John’s as his hand wrapped around John’s cock.

“I want to ride you,” Roger told him between kisses, his words and the movement of his hand enough to make John moan aloud. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Yes!” John bobbed his head, his mouth watering at the idea alone. 

Roger leaned back, ripping the condom open with his teeth. He pushed off the couch, going to kneel beside it. He ran the condom along John’s dick, wrapping him up properly before reaching to grab a tube of sorts and pop the lid open. He poured the sleek substance into his hand, properly running it along with John’s hardening member. 

Pouting a bit more onto his hands, he reached back, moaning at his own movements. John watched him, swallowing hard as the realization of what Roger was doing came over him. His eyes widened as he gazed upon the beautiful man, who was opening himself up with his fingers so he’d be ready to take John’s cock inside him. 

Unable to resist, John lunged forward, capturing Roger’s mouth with his own. He had never been so bold before and found it rather exhilarating. Roger moaned against his lips, his sticky hands coming to hold John’s face as their kiss deepened. 

Pushing John back, Roger moved forward, straddling him easily. John held his breath as Roger took hold of his cock, lifting his hips so he could slowly sink down onto John. They stayed close, both panting as the tight feeling came over both of them. They waited for another beat, John trying his best to keep himself still and not thrust upwards into the blond. 

“Move,” John muttered, speaking at last. “Please, Roger.” 

“So, so needy,” Roger replied, laughing breathlessly as he began to move his hips, rising slowly and then falling back down. 

It took a moment, but they found a rhythm that worked best for both men. Roger was a natural, that was easy to see. The way he moved his hips, with every twist or jerk, it had John making sounds he didn’t even know he could make.

John was not a vocal person. He was never one to shout or even sing along to the radio, but Roger had him moaning and crying out like there was no tomorrow. 

Their kissing never stopped, with their tongues battling one another for prime dominance. Eventually, Roger broke away, moving his lips down John’s neck to mark him just as he had previously. In the back of John’s mind, he wondered how long marks like these would last for on the skin; if he would have to take a few tips from his cousin on how to hide them when he returned home. 

Roger began moving faster then and John knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. The whole thing only lasted a few minutes, but that was more than enough for the sweet virgin, whose only action prior to this had been wanking off in the bathtub and the few things he had done with Roger. 

Roger’s tongue was at his ear when he fired off inside the condom; his hips jerking up off the couch. Roger’s hand jumped to his own cock, who had been bobbing between them, his head leaking desperately. John slapped Roger’s hand away, taking over on the rub and tug until streams of white juices shot from him, covering their naked stomachs. 

Roger nearly collapsed onto him, their foreheads pressed together as they came down from their high. After a moment, Roger pushed off, slopping down beside John on the couch. His head was heavy and they were completely out of it, smiling like fools and laughing breathlessly. 

“Now that is what I call making memories,” Roger spoke up, his mouth swollen and red from the kisses they exchanged. 

John didn’t know how to respond with words, so he didn’t say a thing. He just sunk into the blissful moment, lacing his finger’s with Roger’s when the other man took his hand easily. 

They were on their fifth day together when the two decided to be a bit adventurous. John didn’t want to believe after losing his virginity that all he would want to do is have sex. And he didn’t. When they were finished, John felt peaceful just sitting there with Roger. He knew to have sex for the first time was meant to be this big moment in a person life and in some ways, it was. He’d go back to England with one less thing to worry about and the acknowledgment that he had more experience now for the days to come. 

Roger wasn’t pushing for more. Didn’t shove John put against the pier the moment they met up along the walkway. He didn’t demand that they go back to his place for someone on one time. He greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and insist that they spend their final day together doing whatever they wanted, no looking back. 

Roger took hold of his hand, dragging him all along the boardwalk, not caring who the hell saw them. Time was short and life should be spent having fun, not worrying about some stuff suits that were gonna narc on them for being intimate. 

Roger kept the conversation light, asking all about the things John was going to do once he returned to England. He still had the rest of the summer to focus on and while he didn’t know exactly what he’d do aside from whatever gigs The Oppression had booked at that point, John found he was in no real rush to find out. 

“Then again, who knows. They could have replaced me by then.” John mentioned, tossing more stones into the water across the way. He had never been very good as skipping them, but he blamed it on the rolling tide. 

“Bullshit. Any band willing to replace you isn’t worth a listen to.” Roger decided, throwing own set of rocks into the sea. 

“What about you? Aside from dental school, what will you do with yourself?” 

“Haven’t thought about it,” Roger confessed, going to settle back against the sad. “Maybe put together a band of my own. I play guitar as well as I play drums. I sing too.” 

“One man band,” John mentioned playfully. 

They fell into a gentle silence, both comfortably relaxing into the sand as the sound of the crashing seas filled around them. 

“Gonna come to find me once I leave for Cornwall?” Roger asked suddenly. 

The question was so soft, that John wondered if he had imagined it. Roger was facing the water, the kitten hat on his head tilting down so his face was partially hidden. He waited for a beat before turning to face him, signifying that he had in fact spoken. 

“You want me to?” John asked honestly. “Didn’t think you’d want that.” 

This was meant to be a summer romance. A bit of an affair. They would spend a few days together, making the most out of the short time they had, and make the memories that John wanted so badly, but that was all it would be. Blissful memories that John could look back onto when it was all finished. 

“Why not? We’re mates, aren’t we?” 

“Come on, Roger. You have two more months left in the states. Who knows who you’ll meet. Probably forget all about me by the time you return home.” 

There was nothing about John that was worthy of remembering. He didn’t stand out because of one way or another. Perhaps due to his virgin form that Roger promptly destroyed on the couch the dirty blond would be more prompt to recall him, but aside from that, nothing else seemed to stand out. 

“Forget you? That’s . . . John!” Roger rolled in the sand, moving up onto his hands and knees. He crawled over to John, pushing him down into the sand while he straddled him. “You mate have completely lost it if you think I’d ever forgotten you.” 

“Roger. Someone could see.” John mentioned, twisting his and around he could check their surroundings. 

Roger took hold of his chin then, turning his face so they were looking eye to eye. “You’re spectacular, John. You’re talented and funny and gorgeous. Stop it!” 

John was trying to wiggle away, his face flush from the compliments that were being forced onto him. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. People paying extra attention to him and seeing behind the mask he tried so very hard to wear. John guarded himself properly and he was happier like that. 

“You’re so young yet you play the bass like you’ve done it for ages. You tinker and toy with electric bits and create a working amp. You’re so bloody clever, John. The things you say . . . the way you look.” Roger shook his head, those blue eyes sparkling with disbelief. “You’re beautiful, John. I’d forget my own name before I forget you.” 

John stopped fighting then, stopping his struggling as he settled into the sand. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to someone like Roger. Someone so intensely wonderful. He feared nothing and lived by his own rules. He didn’t give two fucks about what the world expected of him. Perhaps it was just a mask he wore and the man returning to Cornwall would be different from the man sitting on top of him now. John didn’t know and to be honest, he didn’t care. 

All that mattered was the here and now. 

John leaned up suddenly, pressing his lips to Roger’s. The older male gasp against his mouth, taken back by John’s sudden show of affection. They weren’t hidden by the pier nor was the beach bare like it had been previous times. They were in a compromising position and could get into big trouble if they were found by the wrong people.

And neither seemed to care. 

Roger quickly melted into the kiss, those large drummer hands cupping John’s face as their kissing continued. They didn’t push for more. Didn’t allow their hands to wonder or squeeze as they had during their previous snogging sessions. This was by far the more innocent string of kisses they exchanged and yet the most meaningful. 

Roger pushed off him after a while, though he kept their hands connected. He pulled John to his feet and led him up the boardwalk and towards a strange looking box. “Do you trust me?” Roger asked him suddenly. 

When John answered, the dirty blond promptly shoved him inside the box. Inside was small and cramped, with a bench for them to sit on and a curtain that kept the privacy. John half expected Roger to go back to kissing him, but he never did. 

“It’s a photo booth.” He started gently, grabbing his wallet to take out the American dollar and place it into the machine. “It’s going to take a picture. Six of them.” 

“How strange,” John mentioned, moving closer. He pressed his face to the screen, squinting to see the camera. His mechanic's heart ached to tear the thing to pieces so he could investigate the inside, but Roger swiftly pulled him back and settled him beside him on the bench. 

“Smile!” Roger demanded. John reacted quickly, smiling just as a flash went off. “It’s ten-seconds between each picture. Quite fun actually. I hope some of these pop up in England when I return.” 

“It is rather impressive,” John mentioned, sitting back as another flash went off. 

They did this three more times, going back and forth between making wild silly expressions that would be worth a laugh and very serious ones that just seemed too good to resist. For their final one, Roger took hold of John’s face, kissing him soundly as the flash went off. Once finished, they exited the booth and waited for the black and white stripe of images to print. 

Roger showed them off to John, who was indeed fascinated by how well they turned out. Taking the sheet, Roger ripped it in half, giving John the upper half, where they were smiling playfully. “To keep your memory fresh,” Roger said, pocketing the other half. 

Roger took him back to his loft then, grabbing dinner along the way. Roger wanted John to have one final night where he could enjoy the wonderful American cuisine. They settled in Roger’s bedroom, as his flatmates were there and they wanted a bit of privacy. 

They ate their food and flipped through Roger’s record collection. Roger wasn’t kidding when he said his collection was larger than his pile his clothing. There just have been thirty records spread out across the floor. Roger teased that he had no idea how he’d get them back to England but he was stubbornly determined to find away.

Finally settling on one of Roger’s favorites. “This band played at the Fantasy Fair,” Roger mentioned softly, putting the record on and skipping to the track he wanted to play. “One of my favorites actually. Real treat getting to see them."

John vaguely remembered it, though he would be the first to admit that the concert was more of a blur than anything to him. It was a nice song, very melancholy sounding despite the more upbeat lyrics. 

Roger swayed in the middle of the room, his hips following the beat of the music. “You wouldn’t dance with me then,” He mentioned softly. “Dance with me now?” 

John didn’t dance. He didn’t have a reason to. He played the bass in a band that didn’t have music you could really dance to and even if you did, who the hell would dance while playing such an instrument? Still, he found himself compelled by Roger, sighing in a gentle defeat as he took his hand. 

Roger pulled him in, his arms wrapping around John’s waist as he brought him into his careful waver. He didn’t try to man hand John or lead him the way a man would do with a woman. They flowed together naturally, with Roger singing along with the song, showing off that he did, in fact, have a wonderful voice. 

The song died out and played into another, though both men had forgotten all about the record in general. They were wrapped up in one another, pressed close as they did their little sidestep that eventually came to an end. 

“Our final night together,” John mentioned to him quietly, his voice cutting through the music that played around them. “I want one final memory. One that will last me a lifetime.” 

Roger tilted his head back, those blue eyes that seemed to capture the sea and the sky all at once shimmered in the dim light. “Lets rock and roll then, beautiful.” 

They moved slowly, having no real reason to rush. They had all night after all. John took advantage of having a partner that knew what he was doing and allowed Roger to be in charge once more. They stripped their clothing carefully, letting the pieces fall to the floor without a care. 

Roger pushed John onto the bed, kissing him gingerly as their hands wandered and fingers traced lined against their delicate skin. He blindly slapped around his nightstand to find the condom and lubricant, never wanting to pull away to stop the continuous kisses they exchanged. 

He took his time working on John, opening him up once the brunet made it very clear he wanted him to stop. One finger turned to two. Curling ever so slightly as they made John feel things he never felt before. Roger batted John’s hand away when he tried to himself a bit of a tug, deciding to take the younger man in his mouth as he fucked him with his fingers.

The feeling was wild and intense, far more than John had ever felt. The idea of using his fingers on himself crossed his mind once or twice but he never dared to do such an action. Now he believed the act was ruined for him by Roger as he knew he’d never be able to make himself feel as good as Roger was making him feel right now.

John finished, the combination of the fingering and blow job pushing him over the edge, and he was left a panting mess on top of Roger’s bed. The dirty blond licked away the mess, however, informing John just how much he liked to use his mouth. How he was supposed to survive this night was questionable at best. 

“Are you still up for it?” Roger asked, adjusting himself in the knickers he still wore. “I can take care of myself if you’re done.”

There was no way John was going to let this stop now. Maybe it was his eager mind that had gone practically loopy from the orgasm he had mere moments ago, but he wanted more. Maybe he was just greedy. A beautifully greedy gay man that just wanted another beautifully gay man inside of him. 

“I want all of this, Roger,” John replied quietly. His eyes were half-lidded and glassy, but he kept them open and on Roger’s own air. “All of you.”

Roger licked at those lovely lips, bobbing his head as he pushed off the bed. He wiped his hand along the sheets to clean them and took hold of the condom, ripping open the tinfoil caging with his teeth. 

Roger watched him intensely, his teeth biting ever so gently into his bottom lip as he watched Roger roll the latex onto his dick. He squeezed another heap of lube into his hand, lathering himself up before coming to crawl back onto the bed. 

“It’s easier, you know. On your knees but, not being able to see you would be rather heartbreaking.” 

“Do you sweet talk all the virgins you deflower?” John teased, trying to loosen the nervous tension that was rolling through his body. 

“Never done that before, though I’d be happy to sweet talk you any day. Deflowered or otherwise.” 

Roger tipped his head down, capturing John’s lips with his own as he moved between his legs. Any last-minute thoughts or even the possibility of regret slipped away the moment Roger pressed into him. 

Roger was whispering to him between their kisses, reminding him to breathe slowly and relax. It was an easy concept, but John was fairly sure that Roger’s dick was a bit larger than his fingers, so the adjustment time was a bit longer. Roger gave him time however, continuing to kiss along his face, saying such sticky, sweet things to him. 

He moved carefully once John gave him the go; pulling out almost all the way before going back in, bottoming out with a groan. He didn’t John, choosing instead to keep things gentle, much to John’s surprise. 

The brunet didn’t want Roger to hold back for his sake; sex was supposed to be pleasurable for both parties, but he was also thankful that the man didn’t hammer right into it and make John sorer than he would be. 

John grew more bold, however, shifting against the mattress to wrap his legs around Roger’s small waist, caging the man against him. He twisted his face away from Roger’s, attaching his mouth onto Roger’s neck. He sucked and bit on his pulse point, marking him for the very last time. The act got Roger moving a bit faster, the room swiftly filling with the sounds of moans and the slapping of skin. 

Roger moved his hand down between them, those calloused fingers that had quickly become John’s second favorite part of Roger’s body wrapped around John’s throbbing cock. He worked for his hand smartly, twisting and squeezing to enchase the pleasure for both of them. 

John didn’t know how long sex was meant to last, but he wasn’t losing count. His mind was solely focused on the pure enjoyment of this moment. Of being with Roger and pushing away all those terrible insecurities that had nagged at him the very first moment he realized he took more interest in men than women. 

He never imagined doing this, giving into those dark temptations that were never really spoken about. Things that were only meant to be done in the dark. 

The lights were on now, both in the room and inside John’s minding the brunet felt nothing but bliss when he finished for the second time. Roger wasn’t far behind, finishing deep inside John with a high pitched whine. 

They stayed wrapped up in one another, their chest rising and falling as they came down from their highs. Roger pulled out with a reluctant groan, removing the condom and tossing it into the bin in the corner. 

Neither said anything right away, but it wasn’t needed. The smiles on their faces were more than enough to prove just how good they both felt. 

“How am I supposed to let you go now that I’ve had a piece of you?” Roger asked playfully, his nose tickling at John’s cheek. 

“You’ve had many pieces of me, Roger,” John replied, lifting a hand to run his finger’s through Roger’s hair, pushing it away from his eyes. 

“Now you’ll have to look me up in England. You’ll have to get every piece of me.” 

John hummed, not wanting to speak of the future. For this final moment, he just wanted to focus on the now. Focus on being in this bed, with this man who captured his heart in such an intense way. John wasn’t in love. He wasn’t a sappy sod who wore his heart on his sleeve. He protected himself well and the fact that this wildflower man was able to tear down those walls was enough to tell John he’d never forget him or this moment. 

They fell asleep together, right there on the bed. Roger pulled away from the sheet, rattling on about how he’d take care of the laundry that week. Patricia had rung the loft, speaking to John quietly as her parents had already gone to bed. She proved herself once again as a clever girl, telling her parents that John had turned up to bed early despite never returning. He had thought about sneaking back inside, but she told him to stay the night, promising to gather him up in the morning. 

He returned to Roger’s waiting arms, letting the other man toy with his hair as they both drifted off. He had never slept with someone before, in any sense and now he had done it all with Roger. They woke up together at the crack of dawn, with Roger kissing at his cheeks and tickling his sides. 

It was playful, despite the lingering sleepiness that clung to both of them as they wiggled around in the blankets. After a bit of begging, Roger persuaded John to allow him to show what else his wonderful mouth could do aside from sing and smirk. 

John never knew the human tongue could do so much, though Roger had mentioned that it was the strongest muscle in the body and he proved that as fact just as the sun was rising. John had never expected to enjoy something so charismatically filthy, but the younger man found himself biting into the pillow to keep himself from wailing. 

It was quite obvious that Roger took pride in making the younger man go berserk and while John was never one to get vocal, he didn’t shy away from the sounds and the feeling, allowing Roger to keep his smirk when it was over. He made it very clear that he wasn't allowing John to leave the country unless he was given a taste of him and made sure to take his sweet time having John come undone by his tongue alone. 

They weren’t kissing when the knock on the door came, rather just tangled together among the blanket and limbs. “Trish is here.” His flatmate mentioned as he opened the door. “You boys want breakfast?” 

“Just ate actually,” Roger said, earning a slap on the chest from John. 

They took their time dressing, passing their clothing back and forth, Roger giving John own of his own shirts and taking John’s in exchange. The brunet pocketed the pictures, allowing Roger to lead him out of the room, their fingers laced as they walked through the loft. Patricia was sitting on the couch with Roger’s flatmate, talking casually despite the other man wearing nothing but his loose-fitting knickers. 

“Have a fun slumber party?” She asked the two men. Roger and John exchange a look as Patricia came to tap at John’s neck. “I’m gonna have to buy you some foundation before you return to Europe.” She mentioned, smirking as John slapped her hand away. “Come on. I told my parents we’d be back early.” 

“What did you tell them?” Roger asked curiously. 

“We went to the beach one last time,” Patricia answered, shrugging once. “Come on. We gotta go.” 

John gave his cousin a stiff nod, turning to look back at Roger. His flatmate sat off on the couch, watching them with a practically smitten expression. Roger had mentioned that the man didn’t judge him for anything. It was the times and the younger American folk didn’t have time to judge. All they wanted was peace and food. 

Roger shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, his thumb running slowly along John’s knuckles. Neither wanted to say goodbye and instead chose not to. Instead, the blond stepped forward, wrapping his arm around John to pull him in for an embrace. It was tight, though short-lived. When they stepped away, they sighed, each giving the other a solid nod. 

“Have fun with your tinkering.” 

“Have fun at denial school.” 

In a split-second decision, John pressed a small kiss on the corner of Roger’s mouth. It wasn’t passionate or full of need. It was small and chaste, the unspoken goodbye between two lovers. 

With one last squeeze of his hand, Roger released John, watching with dimly lit eyes as the two cousins went off, leaving the loft for one final time. 

John spent his final day with his family, playing games with Pamela and Patrick. He looked at old pictures that his aunt had to share and mostly stayed away from his uncle who was busy chatting away about the vacation he would be taking once the two left. John understood perfectly why some women stayed with a particular type of man. They had a marriage, and a home, and children to take care of. 

But the way his aunt would just smile and shake her head, like this, was the life she accepted, all while Patrica rolled her eyes, something that was mirrored by Julie and Pamela gave John a small sense of hope for the future. He just wished Patrick would follow suit and not be a bit of a stiff like his father. 

It was sad to leave the states, especially since he hadn’t been very keen on going in the first place. This whole trip had been forced upon him and now he found himself wishing he could stay just a little while longer. Do spend more time with his family and continue to see things through a different set of eyes. 

But sometimes the things you wanted weren’t the things you needed. When morning came, John helped his uncle pack up his suitcase, watching as his sister hugged their family goodbye. His uncle gave him a switch pat on the back, mentioning something about him growing into a fine young man when a familiar car pulled up. 

Roger stepped out, looking flush and frazzled. “I’m not . . . don’t expect a declaration or anything.” He told John right off the bat. 

“Thank God for that,” He muttered, looking him up and down slowly. 

This was unexpected, to say the least, and the way Roger looked worried him so. He wasn’t smiling or trying to play him showing up as cool or dramatic. He looked like he had gunned it, cutting through traffic as he drove down the residential roads far faster than he should have. 

“You left this at my place,” Roger confessed, holding up the partially ripped Photo Booth strip. “Probably won't even want it. I just . . . I don’t want you to forget.” He admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck when John took the paper from him. 

The pictures were crinkled and barely in focus but he treasured it dearly. His smile was bright and genuine, something John couldn’t remember doing before coming to America. He pocketed the strip, patting his breast pocket above his heart gently. 

“I won’t forget you, Roger.” He promised softly. 

“How could you?” The dirty blond spoke up, winking through his smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Let’s go, John.” His uncle mentioned from behind him. 

“Love, I’ll take the kids in.” John’s aunt spoke up, moving in to take the car key from her husband’s hand. “Why don’t you go work on that model with Patrick?” 

John turned away then, letting his aunt and uncle talk it over while he put his focus on Roger. They were in a residential area. Full of white cookie-cutter families that all looked and functioned the same. And here they were, two young men with feelings that could destroy the whole mechanism that this neighborhood was built on. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind one final time, John stepped forward, pushing off the curb and crashing into Roger for one final kiss. It was long-winded and hard, knocking the air right out of the blond who pressed his hand’s to John’s hips to keep him from falling back against the car. 

John pulled off after that, squeezing Roger’s arm once before turning on his heel and walking in the other direction. He threw Roger once the last glance, winking to him while licking his lips for good measure as he caught his uncle's heated gaze. Hopping into the car, he caught his aunt smiling, her cheeks rising in color as they drove off. 

“John love. Nearly forgot.” His aunt mentioned as they walked to the gate. She went into her purse, pulling out a thick envelope. “Your pictures. I promised to have them developed before you left. Picked them up yesterday night.”

John took the envelope, stepping into the embrace his aunt was offering. “Thank you for everything,” He mentioned softly, allowing her to kiss his cheek before sending him off. 

John followed his sister past the gate, setting down into his seat after boarding. He began skimming through the pictures, smiling at all that he gad taken. He shared a few with his sister; some he had taken of her during their group outings though he kept the others to himself. 

“This trip was certainly interesting,” Julie mentioned softly as they began total off. 

“Did you like San Francisco?” John asked, realizing now that he had barely spent any time with his sister since they arrived. 

That didn’t seem to bother her much. They were close enough and it was obvious she had taken to spending time with her cousins. 

“I did. Though not as much as you,” She mentioned, smiling behind the book she was reading, though her eyes drifted down to John’s lap where the numerous pictures of Roger were sitting. 

John nudged her playfully, leaning back in his seat, his eyes cast out the window as they took off. The sky and the sea shimmered beautifully, though John had seen eyes far bluer and he missed them already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be published on Thursday or Friday. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I have.


	6. Let's Live For Today

**_By chasing after money_ **   
**_And dreams that can't come true_ **   
**_I'm glad that we are different_ **   
**_We've better things to do_ **

**_May others plan their future_ **   
**_I'm busy loving you_ **   
**_(One, two, three, four!)_ **

**_Sha la la la la la live for today_ **   
**_Sha la la la la la live for today_ **   
**_And don't worry 'bout tomorrow, hey_ **

Roger had always been a very hopeful person. When the things around time turned to shit, he always tried to grin and bear it for as long as possible. After all, nothing could make you feel bad if you didn’t allow it to. If you continued to stay positive, at least a little bit, then really, anything was possible. 

However, when you’ve been in a band that is constantly losing their bass player, it’s a little less than easy to keep on a happy face. He tried, of course, he did, but dammit, sometimes the man just felt utterly hopeless. 

Roger tried to argue with the other did. Did they even really need a bass player? Surely a band was enough with just drums, guitar, and vocals? Roger and Freddie sang enough for them to not have a bass line. 

Freddie and Brian disagreed however and continued to bring in new guys hoping that they would fit into the group. Roger just didn’t understand why anybody wouldn’t want to be with them. They weren’t hard to work with. Sure, Freddie could be a bit much and Brian was very persistent when it came to his solos, but Roger himself was very easy to get along with. 

All he wanted to do was rock, simple as that. He wanted to bang his drums, make tons of money, meet lots of attractive people, repeat and repeat, again and again until he was too old to do any of the three. 

And at his ripe age of early twenties, he was in his perfect prime, meaning it was the best time to get a jumping start on that. He was tired of sitting in their damp little flat, playing pubs and uni’s where barely anyone even came for the music. He was tired of waking up in the early morning with Fred and going to sell all the cheaply made items at the market, all while wearing a pretty smile and delicately chosen clothes. 

That was one of the perks of living with Freddie. He always chose the best pieces when it came to clothing. Seeing all they were all skinny bastards and had barely any pocket cash to spend, the sharing of clothing was a must. Freddie would never go out and wear something boring, therefore allowing the others to dress the same. 

The pieces may not be from Biba, but they were impressive nonetheless. 

However, looking good was only half of the job. Roger couldn’t be apart of a famous band if the band didn’t exist. Brian had gone out the other night after one of their shows that went so terribly Roger nearly ended up with a blond girl that reminded him far too much of himself. He was drunk and upset and Freddie was too busy messing around with his own girlfriend to worry about their future. 

Apparently, in the midst of drowning out their sorrows, Brian stumbled upon a possible bassist for the group. How bloody interesting it was for them to find a player just sitting along the sea of students at an afterparty. 

Brian had invited him to come along, to play for the three of them in an impromptu audition. Roger didn’t know why they bothered. It seemed at this point he was well on his way to giving up his drums and focusing on that biology degree he had promised his mum he’d have before the years are up. 

“I thought he said three,” Roger mentioned, shoving his hands in his pockets to search for light. 

“I thought he said two,” Freddie replied, shaking the cardboard cigarette box. 

“That’s even _earlier._ That means he’s extra late,” Roger muttered, turning his face to gaze at the man. 

“You can tell time, Roger. I’m so proud!” Freddie extended his hand, offering a cigarette. 

Pulling the matches from his breast pocket, Roger lit the fag and brought it to his lips, rolling his eyes as he breathed in slowly. Freddie’s cigarettes were softer than his own. The smoke that filled his lungs wasn’t as strong and didn’t make his head dizzy. 

He leaned back, disappointed. He looked to the clock once more, watching as the time carried on. Normally it was Freddie that popped in later than usual, but never Brian. Then again, Brian was coming with a bass player in tow. 

The heavy metal door of the school’s practice room swung open and the tall guitarist strutted through like he owned the place. 

“All right, gents! We’ve arrived.” Brian called out. 

“About bloody time,” Roger muttered, keeping his head tilted back as he settled back in his chair. 

“Darling, what took you so long?” 

“I was carrying precious cargo, Fred.” Brian teased, walking deeper into the room. “Allow me to introduce you to John. He’s studying at . . . where is it again?” 

“Imperial University,” The soft voice answered. 

“How fun,” Freddie commented, sitting up straight in his seat. “And you play bass professionally?” 

Brian snorted, his hands falling to his hips. “None of us play professionally, Fred.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Roger grumbled. 

“Bit of a hobby. I was in a band, but it wasn’t anything worthwhile.” 

“Well, then, show us something that is worthwhile, darling. And please keep in mind, while we are terribly desperate, we won’t allow anything but the best.” 

Brian came to sit beside Roger as the bassist set up. He didn’t know if it was obvious or not, but Roger was giving the least amount of attention that he could. He wanted to be as strong-willed as Fred or even Brian, but he was tired. Tired of the players leaving or having to be fired. Tired of having to study a subject he preferred to handle personally. Tired of his dreams not yet become a reality. 

He kept his eyes closed, hidden behind the tinted sunglasses that he wore even inside. He listened carefully as the player tuned his bass, giving a few strums before beginning to play. It was a funky track, one that didn’t exactly fit their style, though was still nice to hear. 

He played that tune for a moment before falling into another one, this time around on a song that Roger recognized though the name escaped him. He tilted his head, curious at the band who was bold enough to play for a group called Queen. 

The player was tall and lanky, though not as much as Brian. His hair was dark and long, a tad bit fluffy. He wasn’t looking at them as he played, but rather onto the ground and at his own hands. Hands with fingers that were long and deft, and obviously knew what they were doing. 

The final piece he played wasn’t familiar to Roger in the slightest, though it was impressive nonetheless. 

Roger tilted his sunglasses upwards, squinting his eyes carefully. He wished he had brought his real glasses so he might actually get a good look at their next possible bass player but he wasn’t a big fan of them. Sure he wore them for studying or driving but aside from that, they stayed far off his face. 

The gentle slope of his nose sent something poking into Roger’s brain. It was an adorable set piece for him; it’s not every day someone is blessed with a beautiful nose. Roger himself was lucky to have one but he knew many who had not been so fortunate. 

When the man finished, Roger found himself staring, feeling a strange sense of familiarity about the man. “That was great John,” Brian mentioned, smiling ever so proudly at his findings. “What did you say your last name was?”

“Deacon,” John replied.

That alone nearly had Roger falling back from his chair. 

There was something about the man that tickled at his mind, toying at his memory and the sound of his last name, the look on his face, and his familiar playing was enough to tickle inside his head.

John didn’t look like the young guy Roger had met in San Fran four years ago. He looked nearly posh, with a quiet sense about him and stronger build. His fashion sense had changed as well, with clothing that seemed to fit him a tad bit smarter though nothing flashy. 

It was him, however. The same gorgeous framing and perfect physical standing as he waited for the band to make their decision.

“I must say, you are rather good,” Freddie mentioned softly. 

“He’s played for years. And as a student, our schedules would basically link up.” Brian said to him. “What is it you said you’re studying?” 

“Electrical engineering,” Roger supplies before John has the chance to. 

Nothing across John’s face wavered. No surprised expression or lift of his brow. Roger took off his sunglasses, tossing them onto the table as he gazed at the other man. Roger had returned from the states a changed man for many reasons. He had tried drugs and had sex, living that wildlife his mum begged him to leave behind. For the most part, he did though that wasn’t really his fault. 

He wouldn’t go and say he fell in love with John. They didn’t have enough time for love. Sure, a little of a week spent together was enough time to feel something but even Roger, who was a bit of a romantic, knew it just wasn’t the right time. Even with the one night stands he had, they were nothing more than a passing fling. Roger wasn’t known to fall for anybody, not even for the night. 

But he liked John far more than he expected to. Maybe it was how bold he was, despite obviously not being that way. He was putting in a good face for the few days he was on holiday and something about that peaked Roger’s interested.

When the blond realized he had liked men and women it was like a revolution. He was in the middle of the summer of love, where people could do anything, be anything. Of course, there were rules but who really cared about those? Roger certainly didn’t. He did the drugs and slept with pretty people and lived his life to the fullest. 

When he returned to Cornwall he put that all behind him focused on his studying and joined a band called Smile that later transformed into Queen. The memories of those summer nights lingered in the back of his mind and the pictures he kept from the camera he had were stored away in a safe place, only looked upon when Roger was bored and nostalgic. 

And that included the ripped up photo booth picture of Roger kissing a beautiful brunet. 

Freddie has always taught him to not look back and Roger believed in that statement one hundred and ten percent. 

But now he was here, with the man who had haunted his mind on so many lonely nights standing right before him. And from what he could say, John didn’t seem to recognize him in the least. 

Shame, really. Roger wouldn’t allow himself to be hurt over it. After all, it had been a very long time ago and while Roger liked to flirt and flaunt himself, he also knew he wasn’t very special. He wasn’t worth remembering. And he was all right with that for now. After all, he wasn’t a rock star just yet. Just a young man trying to make his mark in the world. 

“You’re an electrician. Perhaps he could fix our amps and tweak the microphones?” Freddie teased, smiling obnoxiously despite neither Brian or Roger laughing. 

“I like to tinker,” John admitted. 

“So do I, darling,” Freddie replies, wiggling his fingers for good measure.

Brian leaned forward, his hair poking out between the line of them. “Shall we put it to a vote then?” 

“I like him. He’ll blend in just fine though I do have a few suggestions on your attire.” 

“Roger? Opinion?” 

Roger had a lot of opinions on the man but he figured those would be better off in his head than out loud. “He’s great. My vote is yes.” He said finally.

“I agree. You did well, John. Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome to Queen!” Freddie told him brightly. “So gentleman shall we get a drink to celebrate?”

Freddie dragged them all to the pub on campus, sitting then far back at a table in the corner. Brian and Freddie babbled on, telling John all about their style of music and how they hoped on taking the world by storm soon enough. John listened and spoke when he felt the need to though Roger found him slowly beginning to open up; that boyish smile taking over his face once again. 

Roger stayed quiet for the most of it. He was content with drinking his pint and watching his friends act like fools as they tried to impress the man. He thought back to all the time he too tried to impress him though he had been hoping for a more personal reaction back then. 

Eventually, Brian and Freddie went off to speak with girls who knew them or classmates, leaving John and Roger alone at the table. The blond sat there watching him, a peaceful smile across his face until he found those gray eyes watching him back.

“Brian said you saw us a couple of nights ago,” Roger said, speaking directly at him for the first time. “What did you think?”

“Honestly?” John inquired. “I wasn’t impressed.” 

“Oy! Hit a man where it hurts, why don’t ya?” Roger placed his hand over his heart for good measure. 

“You need a bass player,” John added, leaning in closely.

“Well, now we have one. Perhaps with you well actually be able to book a place other than a university theatre.” 

“Who knows,” John mused aloud. He cocked his head about, checking his surroundings easily. “Do you wanna go out for a fag?”

Roger didn’t smoke often; usually when he was on edge but if stepping outside with John and stealing another moment together was an option then he’d take it. He followed John outside, into the alleyway behind the pub, with only the muffled sound of the music playing inside could be heard. 

He recognized the tune almost automatically and it brought Roger back to when he was just a teen, on his own in a new world that he was determined to conquer. It had been a song he took meaning and wanted to learn from. 

For a small moment, it had been their song. One they danced to alone in his tiny bedroom in a tiny flat without a single care in the world. 

But that was a long time ago, indeed. 

He leaned back against the dirty brick wall, using his lips to retrieve a cigarette from the carton. He held out the cardboard box, shaking it for John to take. 

“I don’t smoke,” John told him with a shake of his head. 

“Why’d you invite me out here then?” 

John just shrugged, looking around aimlessly, just as he had when they were inside the pub. Roger watched him curiously, trying his best to piece together everything that was going on inside that pretty little head of his. He was not an open book, not remotely. His expression was blank, leaving Roger with absolutely no idea what the other man was feeling or thinking. 

Roger sighed, digging into his jacket pocket to grab a match. He lit it, allowing the end of the cigarette to burn properly. He took a long inhale, shooting the smoke up to the sky as they stood together.

Roger tried not to take into account all the things he had done with this man. To this man. The blow job under the pier. How completely undone John had been after he ate him out in the early morning of their last day together. Roger had always been a bold and giving lover. He wanted to make his partner fall to pieces. He took great pride in seeing them a weak tongued mess. 

John had been a mess for him and he had been a mess for John. They worked well together in the short time they had together. 

But that was a long time ago. 

“Did you bring back all your records or did you have to leave some behind?” John questioned suddenly, his gentle voice cutting through the white noise in the alleyway. “You did have quite a collection.” 

Roger’s tongue slipped out across his lips, where he licked them nervously. That boyish smile that he was known for spread across his face, reaching the shimmering blue eyes that he was proud to show off. 

He could have leaned back and played it off. He could have been cool and collected. Could have been as unimpressed at this moment as John had been watching Queen perform just a few nights ago. Roger always did have a wonderful poker face.

But Roger didn’t want to play it off. He didn’t want to act like it didn’t matter, because it did. John remembered him. Four years wasn’t long, but Roger knew better than to get his hopes up. 

He did try to play it off as cool, however. He kept his smile on, pushing off the wall to invade John’s personal space. 

“You remember me,”

John’s own lips quirked upwards, those grey eyes that captured Roger’s teenage heart shining even in the dimly lit alleyway. 

“You’re hard to forget,” He replied. 

“You flatter me, John. And here I was thinking the time we shared came and went through your mind.” 

“You never forget your first. Isn’t that what they say?” 

Roger did forget his first. He lost his virginity during a drunken night before he was to head out to the states. It was with a pretty blonde girl, though her name escaped him. Or perhaps he didn’t even find out her name. Maybe she didn’t even give it. Roger didn’t know, nor did he care. He found pleasure in other people. In John himself. 

“Never forget your fourth either,” Roger supplied, moving closer still. “You still play the bass, I see.” 

“Obviously. I just auditioned for your band.” 

“The band you didn’t find very impressive,”

John shrugged carelessly. “You have a bass player now. Should do better.” 

“Well, bless the heavens for John Deacon.” 

John released a snort, his arms crossing over his chest in a manner that looked more guarded than it should have. Roger rolled on the balls of his feet, sucking in another long-winded puff from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“Still into it?” He asked curiously, a blond eyebrow perking upwards. 

John cocked his head, those grey eyes narrowing. “Do people stop being into it after a while?” 

Roger shrugged lazily. He had always preferred men and women, but he knew a handful of people back in the states who were curious about it only to finally pick a side when it was all said and done. 

Roger flicked the cigarette away, moving closer to John now. “I haven’t stopped,” He confessed. “Have you?” 

“You can’t stop being who you are, Roger,” John mentioned quietly. “You can try, but at the end of the day, you are who you are.” 

“Pure poetry. You should write songs. Are you seeing anyone?” 

“Christ, Roger.” 

“It’s the seventies, John. Monogamy exists again. Although I am hearing rumors of a thing called ‘swinging’ certainly seems like fun.” 

“You haven’t changed much, have you? Like Brian said. The biggest member of the band.” 

“Such compliments from my friends.” 

“We’re friends?” 

“We used to be,” Roger mentioned casually. “We used to be more than friends, actually.”

John hummed, tipping his head back ever so slightly. “I remember.”

Roger thought about kissing him then. Of shoving him back against the wall and kissing those delicate lips until they were both drunk off one another. Tasting John would be better than tasting any of the liquor choices the sorry excuse of a pub behind them had to offer anyway.

Lucky for Roger however, those thoughts didn’t have to be anything less than that. John beat him to the punch. Rather than pushing him against the brick wall, however, John instead chose to grab hold of Roger’s jacket and pull him in, their lips crashing together haphazardly. 

Roger adjusted himself, giving his head a proper tilt. He lifted his hand, cupping John’s cheek gently. He had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be kissed. His partners after John was wonderful, he would never deny that, but nobody could kiss like him.

He was careful, resilient. He took care of his lovers, making sure they got just as much pleasure as he did.

When the kiss ended, Roger was left smiling. He couldn’t remember smiling this much in one single day. His cheeks bones would be sore by the time the sun came down and he didn’t give a single damn. 

“Definitely still into it,” Roger whispered, swaying into John playfully. Gone was the shy boy who was constantly looking over his shoulder before he could even lift his hand.

“A lot has changed in four years,” John told him quietly, his hands settling at Roger’s hips. 

“Tell me about it?” He asked, wanting to hear all about what John had been up to since their time apart. Maybe there would be other guys or maybe other girls. Roger didn’t care. He could be jealous as hell, but all of that was in the past. 

John was here and they had their entire future to look forward to. 

“Not exactly the most romantic spot,” John mentioned, his head darting around the dark alleyway for the third time. “Could always go back to my place. Catch up? Jam a little?” 

Roger laughed because how could he not? This was wild and ridiculous. John needed him when he was lost and alone in San Francisco, in need of guidance, in need of a friend, and now John found Roger when their band was in need of a bass player. 

Everything was becoming a full circle and while the world around them still wasn’t exactly keen on their type of happily ever after, Roger was positive they had one in their future. 

Reaching down, Roger took hold of John’s hand, lacing their fingers so easily just as he had that day on the pier. “Well, then.” He agreed, giving John’s arm a bit of a tug. “Let’s rock and roll, beautiful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly doubt this will be my last story, though I must say, for now, I have nothing planned. I look forward to reading other stories and possibly being inspired. Until then, enjoy my swan song.


	7. Brighton Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody can thank a wonderful girl by the name of Mari because was the one who had suggested doing this in the first place.

**_ O rock of ages, do not crumble, love is breathing still  
O lady moon, shine down a little people magic if you will _ **

Their first tour was everything and nothing as they expected. There were ups and downs, of course. After all, they were just the opening act. Nobody was there to see them, though Freddie stood by his belief that by the end of the tour, all anybody would be speaking about was Queen. 

“By the time we’re finished with America darling, all they will be thinking is Mott the Who?” 

Roger loved that. Absolutely adored it. He loved being on tour, even if the changing in hours was wonky and sleeping on a tour bus was complete and utter garbage. So long as he had his drum kit in front of him and something decent to drink afterward, he’d put on a good show. 

The rest of the band felt about the same. Freddie never saw the downside to anything they went through. They could play for a crowd that didn’t want a single thing to do with them and he would use all the charm and charisma he could must up in order to get them on their side. He was magical in that sense. He had such away about him when he got on stage. 

Brian and John were somewhat the same, just a very reserved version. John would dance about on stage, singing into the mic when Freddie would demand it while Brian had no problem getting upfront and personal when his guitar. He liked to show off, especially when it came to half of his solos. 

Roger was a regular rocker. He wanted to jam and then party afterward. He didn’t have time for a stage persona. Didn’t want to pretend to be somebody he wasn’t. Sure, he flashed a sweet smile for the cameras and winked at the pretty girls that would ask them to sign their papers or tee shirts when the gigs were done, but that was all for show. 

Behind closed doors, Roger was the very same, but far more comfortable and happy with how things were. He didn’t have to pretend or put on a smile. No, the same came naturally. He could lay down on a couch that was far too small, even for a skinny bastard like himself, and be beaming from ear to ear, but that wasn’t because they had done a good performance or any news that management wanted to share. 

It was because of the company he collected along the way. A very specific band member that could bring a smile to Roger’s face no matter the setting. Whether it be on a crowded airplane, an uncomfortable tour bus, or a far-too-tiny couch in a backstage room. So long as he had John by his side, he was pleased. 

They had been together for three years. Three glorious years. Things had become quite serious right away, because how could they not? The two had spent a week together during their final days of teenage freedom and were young men, making a living as rockstars on their first world tour. 

They still had a long way to go, even if they were already on their second album, with their third to be released later that year. With each release they got more hopeful, always standing by the thought that this would surely be the one that would catapult them into stardom. Of course, it had yet to happen, but that didn’t mean a thing. They had plenty of things to focus on, like showing America what they were really made of. 

Neither Freddie nor Brian had ever come to the states, making the tour all the more exciting for Roger as he had something to boast about. He held his head high, acting like he knew every damn thing there was to know about all the places they went to, even if he himself had only stayed in one place all those years ago. 

Boston and New York were fun, that much was for sure. Walking around the cities, snapping photos that they would use for promotion once they arrived back home. They didn’t really have much to their names and nobody really gave a damn about them aside from the fact that their accents made them stick out like sore thumbs. 

Freddie and Brian took full advantage of that, flirting with all the pretty girls in the local pubs and taking anybody who they deemed worthy back to their hotel room. It was two to a room, which for Brian and Freddie was quite a buzz kill though John and Roger were perfectly fine with the arrangement. 

They would go and celebrate after shows; working off their post-performance buzz, whether it be on a dance floor at whatever disco Deacy dragged him off to or sitting at a high top bar while some shitty local band that reminded Roger far too much of his Smile days plays in the background.

They had been excluded from the moment John joined the band, much to the surprise of the other two members. Roger had never been one to actively search for a significant other and while he never hides himself away from his bisexuality, he also never spoke about it often. Sure, he flirted with the prettiest person in the room (aside from himself of course), but rarely took anyone back with him. 

After all, their apartment was small and it on some days it just wasn’t worth the effort. Sex was fun, but it wasn’t everything to Roger. He wasn’t a young lad who just wanted to get his dick wet. He had school and the band and his job at the shops to focus on. Sure, sometimes it was a good distraction, but Roger didn’t want to put all his focus on one single person that may not stick around for very long. 

John, on the other hand, was in for the long haul. They were practically inseparable and Roger preferred it that way. Sometimes he found himself worrying about it. He knew he could be a bit much. Get on some peoples nerves. His mum used to suggest he play alone in his bedroom so she could have some quiet time and his own father rarely came to visit. Freddie had slept over his girlfriend's house more than enough times and even Brian had been brave enough to confess the sometimes he was just a lot to handle. 

Never John, however. 

They shared living space, as well as a bedroom. A whole bed in fact. They would go to the studio together and work on songs, passing back notes here and there, giving constructive criticism one so they could each grow as an artist. 

John was the best thing to ever happen to him, and while his pride would surely get him in trouble one day, Roger would never shy away from admitting it. 

And that was why he put so much damn effort into making his boyfriend happy, even without realizing it. 

They couldn’t exactly be open. It wasn’t the sixties anymore. It wasn’t a time of romance and flowers. The war was still going on and tensions were still high. People needed to focus other things and ramped homophobia was something that the Bible thumpers of the world held onto. 

They couldn’t hold hands when they walked down the street or kiss one another freely. Especially now that they were getting their name out there, the two had made somewhat of a silent agreement put their selfish needs behind them for the time being and focus on the task at hand, which currently was having a successful tour. 

So they did just that. Only behind closed doors would they be intimate, which in itself had a few perks. When they had so little time to share together, each moment was spent making up for all the others that were lost. 

Roger had made a pledge for them to fuck in every single bloody state North America had to offer, even if John would continuously remind him that they were only visiting a chosen few. Still, he made good on that promise and had used most of his pocket change on condoms and lube. 

It was California that Roger looked forward to the most. Not just because they’d be staying there the longest, but it gave John a chance to meet up with his family again. 

The normally quiet and reserved bass player was rather talkative about his family, telling Freddie and Brian all the things he had done the last time he was in San Francisco. 

“Tell them about the best thing you did while in California.” Roger injected while they were on the bus, heading into the wonderful city. A goofy smile slipped across his face, though it was wiped away the moment John gave the answer. 

“My aunt took me to the old cathedral. It was absolutely gorgeous.” 

“Not the church. _Me_ , dammit!”

“We didn’t realize you were a thing, Roger.” Freddie teased, poking Roger in the side.

“Joke all you want. Some of the best memories I have were of those days in the sun.” Roger mentioned, sounding very un-rock-and-roll as he said it. 

Somethings, however, was worth letting down your walls for. 

“How romantic, Roge. Perhaps you’ll write our next hit song.” Brian teased.

“If Queen ever becomes well known because of a _love_ song, I swear I’ll throw myself down the bloody risers,” Roger grumbled, just missing the side glance that John offered him.

John and Roger weren’t secretive about their past relationship. Even if Roger wanted to keep all the gooey, romantic bullshit out of the limelight, he was very proud of his history with John and returning to the place where they first started it all caused a fire in his stomach to erupt. 

He wanted to keep that flame going, though he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. They had a few days to spare, playing out two nights and then spending another two days just enjoying the glorious state of California. 

Brian and Freddie wanted to spend it sightseeing and heading in every damn direction. Freddie demanded to see the beaches and go to Hollywood, while Brian had some overly fascinating astrology museum that he wanted to visit. John was making plans with Patricia, who was currently on summer break from nursing school. 

All the while Roger just followed along, hoping to get a few spare moments to share with the man he loved. They had snuck away a few times before the performance, in between rehearsals and photo ops. It was rather stressful, the constant moving about. This was what they wanted, after all, and yet Roger found himself becoming somewhat frustrated with the fact that they couldn’t just have a lazing morning together as they did at home. 

He knew he shouldn’t complain and never did openly. He would put on that pretty smile that made all the girls scream and pretended like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

All the while he continued to think back to the days when they were young and could spend every single waking hour together without having to worry about making appearances and be on time for performances. 

Their shows had gone well, probably the best they had done yet. Their names were starting to get picked up and Freddie had even been recognized by a couple of Mott fans. It was exciting for all of them and they wanted to use their final day in California wisely. 

Patricia had invited John out to a carnival that rolled into town and the bass player used his magic to persuade the other three to come along. Roger had to admit it sounded quite appealing. He remembered the carnivals that used to pop up in Cornwall every so often. How he would run around with his sister or friends from school. Riding all the ridiculous rides and spending way more on fair food that, looking back, was absolutely disgusting as well as delicious. 

With it being such a big place, full of so many people all trying to have a good time, Roger figured it would be the best place to hang around John without anybody paying too much attention to them. They could go on the Ferris wheel together and make fun of the locals. He could sneak a touch of the hand or even push him into the shadows of the funhouse for a bit of a snog. 

Roger had spent an embarrassingly long time thinking about it, wanting their last night in California to be one they would always remember. So much so that by the time they finally arrived at the fairgrounds, that they were immediate. 

John was dragged away by his cousins, while Freddie and Brian pulled Roger along in the exact opposite direction. Roger must have shown his displeasure across his face as Freddie tried to remind Roger that they would meet up with John again later on. 

“He only sees his family every couple of years, Roger. He has you every single day. Give the man some space.” Freddie insisted, much to Roger’s dismay. 

It wasn’t that he was trying to be clingy or was jealous over having to share his boyfriend. Roger wasn’t that type of person. But this was America and they had to play a certain role here. Add that onto having to constantly move about due to their ever-changing tour locations. Roger wasn’t selfish for wanting to have a bit of a date with John, something he had been denied for several weeks now. 

He didn’t let it bother him, however. Not openly anyway. He waved it off and followed his friends along, using his petty cash for ride tickets and games. They went on the spinning swings and the carousel. Every ride went round and round, getting the band members dizzier and dizzier, all in good fun of course. 

He had beaten Freddie in ring toss and then Brian at dart throw, winning several prizes as a result. He gave most away, to a little girl that had been eyeing the extra large teddy bear he was nearly dragging around, and to Pamela and Patrick, who had snuck away from their older sister so go on the spinning swings. 

That left Roger with one toy; a small doll that was meant to be Pebbles from the Flintstones. It was rather sweet, with her red hair and a bright smile. Roger planned on giving it to John and waited at the benches with Freddie for the others to group up. They kept themselves busy by talking about the songs; with Freddie adding a few ideas to the lineup for their next performance. 

Brian stumbled over, having just gotten off a rollercoaster. They had all gone on a handful of times, but Brian seemed to have a bit of a coaster-boner and went on again and again. In between eating popcorn and corndogs and gulping down a huge soda. 

Freddie was about to comment about how pale Brian looked, asking if he had enough of going around and around when blood giant projective vomited right before them. Roger and Freddie dodged the mess, leaping off the bench just in time to miss the American cuisine that settled deep inside Brian’s stomach. 

“Do you have any idea how much this cost?” Freddie snapped, circling himself to see if any splashed onto his jacket. 

“Twelve quid with Mary’s discount?” Brian mumbled, the back of his hand rubbing against his mouth to clean it. 

“Har har. Very funny.” 

Roger looked over the mess, finding himself thankful that he had mostly finished his meal before Brian arrived. His own jacket was clean from the vomit, though he could not say the same for the doll. It was completely covered, leaving it sticky and wet and causing Freddie to gag as Roger went to pick it up. 

“This is shit, Brian!” Roger hissed out, throwing the doll in the nearby trash can. “You couldn’t hold your damn barf in a bit longer? The bloody bin was three feet away!” 

“Not my fault,” Brian answered. 

“You rode the bloody coaster sixteen times!” 

“Children, please!” Freddie cut between the two, pulling them along so they were no longer standing beside the puke-covered bench. “I’m sure Deacy will understand.” 

“Oh yeah. Sorry love won you a prize but Brian just couldn’t hold his stomach.” Roger muttered, standing a glare over to the curly-haired man. 

“Then just go win him another. You were good at it, weren’t you? Practically showing off your strength and whatnot.” 

Roger shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out whatever money he had left. Counting over the coins, he found he could play two games at most. With a shake of his head, Freddie went into his own pocket, pulling out his wallet and slipping a five-dollar bill out. He held it between his fingers as an offering. 

“Remember who your best man will be at your wedding.” 

Roger’s blue eyes lit up widely. Snagging the bill, Roger jumped forward, planting a loud kiss onto Freddie’s kiss. “Bloody hero!” He proclaimed aloud. 

“Yes, yes. Take Brian with you! Least he could do is a help.” 

Grabbing hold of the guitarist's arm, Roger dragged him in the direction of the games. With the combination of the money Roger had, as well as the bit Freddie offered and few dollars Brian gave up at an apology, they were able to play thirteen games in a row. 

Thirteen games that both Roger and Brian failed to win time and time again. 

It was quite pathetic actually. 

Skee-ball, ring toss, fishing, and every single game in between. All lost. Roger didn’t get it. He hadn’t smoked or drank anything. How the hell could he have lost his touch in just a matter of a few hours?

He had gotten somewhat close to winning pop the balloon was beaten by a six-year-old in the last few seconds. Brian had to hold him back from throwing himself over the barrier to strangle the barker. 

In the end, Roger felt more pathetic than anything. He knew it was a silly thing to be upset about. It was just a carnival and it was just a stuffed toy. He could buy one for mere pennies if he wanted to, but that wasn’t the point. 

He won the damn thing! He wanted to show off to John, prove that he could be a good boyfriend and do normal things like every other couple. 

When they finally met up again, John must have noticed his distress as he suggested that they go off on their own. It was the first time they had been alone in what seemed like days and John was quick to question his peculiar silence. 

Roger confessed to it all, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. Whining over a bloody toy, but the fact still remained. 

“The last time we were here, we had such a good time. No worries or obligations. We could just hang out and fool around. Now we’re on tour and we’re constantly having to stop for pictures or get some practice in. Sure, we’re together on the bus or in the hotel, but it’s always so rushed and I don’t want it to feel forced.” 

“None of its forced, Roger. We’re still us. We’re just . . . grown-up.” 

“I know. I know, it’s stupid and I shouldn’t be fussing about it, but I miss it. I miss being able to just do whatever we wanted. I thought if I won you something then . . . look, I can’t hold your hand as they can.” 

Roger gestured around them, to the few couples that were out and about. Guys and girls together, some holding hands, while together were walking with their arms wrapped at each others waist. Just people being people, enjoying the lovely weather and being together. 

“We can’t do a bloody thing without risking our heads being beaten in and I hate it. Do you remember the fun we used to have? Fooling around without care? I miss that.” 

“And we’ll have that again when we return to London.” 

It wasn’t as if London fully accepted them. There were still so many people who hated the idea of homosexuality, but at least there no one really paid them much mind. They could hold hands and sneak a kiss without having to worry if they’d be arrested. 

“I just wanted to offer you something normal,” Roger confessed. “I thought if I had won you something, you’d see that I am still putting in the effort to be together. That I’m still serious about this.” 

“Of course you are, Roger. So am I.” John paused, looking around. Taking hold of Roger’s wrist, he pulled him down the lane; past the bathrooms, ticket booth, and car park. They were in the shadows, completely alone. John laced their fingers easily, squeezing his hand promptly. “I know this isn’t easy. Or ideal. But I want you to know that I don’t worry about us, Roger. How could I?”

“I know, I know. We’re always together, what do you have to worry about?” 

“Not that, Roger.” John dismissed. “I miss it too, sometimes. Running around so freely. But we’re not kids anymore, Roge. We’re growing up and becoming more serious. I know we’re not living that California dream anymore, but I think we’re pretty happy if you ask me.” 

“Of course. Of course, I’m happy, John!”

How could he not be? John has been his best first for the past four years and haunted his mind ever since they separated in the sixties. Roger was serious when he said he wanted to find John and he tried, he truly did, but how could he? He didn’t have his home phone number and didn’t ask for Patrica’s when he left for Cornwall. For a good while, he believed that it would be nothing but a lovely memory to hold onto as he moved past it all. 

When they found each other again, Roger had to believe that it was fate and that they were meant to be together and took every opportunity to prove that to John. He spent a good while wooing him, wanting to show that just because he was no longer that happy with the guitar and flower crown, that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be given a chance. He may be more Roger than Meddows now, but that didn't mean that gorgeous dirty blond that fell head over heels in love with John in only seven days still wasn't alive and in love. 

All the while John just smiled and allowed Roger to show off, accepting every big and little thing he had done for him. 

“We’re growing up, Roger. There’s no denying that and if Freddie has it his way, we’re just going to get bigger and bigger.” 

“Think we’ll really be number one?” 

John shrugged his shoulders, looking away for a moment. Roger knew deep down John didn’t want to be a rockstar. He joined the band so he could have something to do outside of work and school. He had no interest in being number one, unlike the rest of the band who dreamed of it. 

“Hey,” Roger stepped closer, squeezing John’s hand to get his attention. “Whether we’re number one in the world or just the number one in the Pub scene, we’re in this together.” Roger reminded him.

Even in the dimly light moonlight, Roger could make out the pink of John’s blushing cheeks. He turned his head again, looking around to make sure the coast is still clear.

“You know. We may not be as carefree as we used to be, but I think we can still have a bit of fun.” John mentioned aloud. 

Roger raised a blond brow to him, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Oh yeah? Feeling a bit spontaneous, are we Deacy?” 

The brunet hummed, pulling on Roger’s hand to pull him deeper into the car park. 

Being spontaneous was a bit too soft as the moment they found a place to hide out and have a bit of fun, the two went from zero to one hundred very quickly. Having sex on the tour bus wasn’t possible unless they wanted everyone else to see them and most of the shitty hotels they booked had squeaky, uncomfortable beds that weren’t meant for shagging. 

They did what they could, but both men felt rather overdue for a good fuck, though they wouldn’t say in a car park behind a pop-up carnival was the most ideal location. They had no lube or condoms, resulting in them using spit and making a bit of a mess. 

Rather than just jerking one another off and swallowing down the other's moans, John pushed the level of boldness and went in for a full riding experience, silently praying to whatever higher power there was that nobody would stumble upon them. 

They were trying their best to muffle all the sounds they made as they had sex in the shadows; their hips moving in tandem as their lips swapped spit. Roger’s hands stayed at John’s hips while John’s own pair held on tight to him, clutching both his shoulders and his hair. Anything he could grab as he brought himself further and further off the edge. 

Lucky for both of them, they were granted the few minutes of privacy, something they had rightfully earned in the past few weeks though they paid for it in the end when they were left sticky and panting; both covered in their own sweat and cum when they finished. 

John was fairly certain he’d be feeling that fuck for several days now, though neither seemed to care very much. It was rushed and needy, but there was no denying that they both felt far better once it was over.

Maybe it was a little rushed and not exactly the most romantic scene, but neither were left complaining. A quicky outside of a carnival sounded rather exciting, in theory, and they chose to just focus on that for the time being. 

Another interesting memory they could take with them when they returned home.

Roger had given up his shirt in order to clean them both off, tossing it away without a care and leaving him with only his jacket as they walked back through the carnival grounds in hopes of finding the others. 

They stayed close, though there was still a small distance between them. Roger thought about how perhaps someday they’d be able to close that gap without a second thought, but for now, tried to cling onto the sex-driven high that they were both coming down from. 

When they grouped up again, Freddie was in the middle of telling John’s family about something funny that happened at one of their previous performances. They had all had dinner at John’s house the first night they arrived in California and while his uncle was a bit of a prick, Freddie won over the younger members of the family. 

John didn’t try to pretend like he and Roger weren’t together. He knew his family would accept him for who he was and if they didn’t, then that was their problem. Roger and John kept their personal life personal for the sake of the band, but neither was going to pretend to be someone they weren’t in fear of losing loved ones. 

They were who they were and if anybody did not like that, then they weren’t worth waiting around for. 

John turned his attention onto one of the games, breaking away from the circle to check it out. Roger followed curiously, noticing it was the milk jug game. He had previously played it a few times, finding that not only himself but also Freddie and Brian were unable to knock down all bottles. 

Without a word, John handed over the money, accepting the three baseballs that had been given. He placed the other two down, inspecting one of them. John never showed interest in sports back home. Sure, they played tennis while at the farm and maybe even some pool, but aside from that, the brunet was more interested in his electrics and bass.

Baseball and everything that had to do with it was still a bit fuzzy to the Brits, though even Roger had to admit the idea of it did seem somewhat interesting. Adjusted his stance, John eyes narrowing as he looked at the tower of unmoving milk bottles. In one swift movement, he threw the ball, hitting the tower directly in the middle, resulting in each one to crumble. 

It was by far the most impressive thing that Roger had ever seen. Such grace and ease went into the throw and the fact that he did it in one single try? Roger was oddly satisfied just watching him.

John took the prize that had been given with a small word of thanks to the barker, turning with a coy smile to Roger as he held it out to him. It was a stuffed bear holding a heart. Very cliche and very cute, and Roger accepted it with a bright smile of his own. 

“Oh John, you do love me.” He gushed, leaning up to kiss John on the cheek. 

It was open and bold, but neither seemed to care anymore. They had two more weeks in American and then they’d be back to jolly old London where they could do whatever they wanted without a single thought. 

They could afford to be a bit reckless. 

After all, they weren’t rockstars yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I won't turn this into Love Somebody or '39 and basically flog it like a dead horse with endless chapters. 
> 
> This was just a bit of fun to see how our wonderful boys are doing after growing up for a bit. 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought down below! 
> 
> Also, I only chose Brighton Rock because it starts with carnival sounds :D


	8. Your Song/I Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes out to Ronnie and Mari who have supported this story from the very beginning.
> 
> And finally, this goes out to Meddows, you beautiful man you.

**_So excuse me forgetting_ **  
**_But these things I do_ **  
**_You see I've forgotten_ **  
**_If they're green or they're blue_ **  
**_Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean_ **  
**_Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen_ **

Roger never wanted to get married. He found the whole idea of it to be rather silly really. Piece of paper that legally binds you to a person. Doesn’t mean anything. People still cheat and break promises. His father did, though he knew that was for the better. The bastard never loved his family properly and they were better off without him. His mum never remarried and Roger took that as a sign that life was better on your own.

Of course, that concept lasted him until he was just shy of eighteen. Living freely during the summer of love only to fall in love with another pretty young lad. They separated and Roger thought that was the last of the angel that had been sent down from England. He had spent a good while learning about himself during that time, piecing together the things he wanted and the things he could live without.

He was content with how things were, deciding to focus solely on his music and his degree. Sure he would go out for a pint with Brian and say a lovely word to a lovely person but he never pushed for more. Never suggested they do damn things though he welcomed it with open arms.

Roger wasn’t going to act like he was hung up on some guy he barely spent a week with. He knew the chances of finding that guy again were one in a billion so he carried on with his life until fate decided to send a twist his way. 

He did meet up with that guy again. And this time they were a tad bit older and a tad bit wider. They were both young and stupid but all those wonderful feelings came rushing back into Roger and he felt as though he had been hit by a freight train. 

Roger may not want to get married but that didn’t mean he didn’t believe in love. He believed and knew it exited and praised those who were lucky enough to feel it. Roger himself had once before and that flame was ignited the moment was John was back in his life. 

Roger wasn’t a stupid man. Perhaps he made silly decisions and said dumb things now and then, but he wasn’t an idiot. The moment he and Roger were reunited, the latter decided to never be apart again. It was quite easy, of course. They were in a band. One that piece by piece, album by album were getting more and more well known. 

At this point, they were quite famous. They’ve had multiple albums that were in the top ten, some even within the top five. Overall, they had done pretty well for themselves over the years. 

Now they were older and wiser. The title rockstar finally fit them well enough. They worked endlessly, but that was the point. You couldn’t write hit songs if you were sitting alone on a couch or relaxing in the bathtub. You had to put the time and effort in and most of the time, it paid off.

Sometimes it paid off very well. Sometimes it paid off so well that they were given a bit of a break. It wasn’t a large one, with the release and all the press and then the tour, but after that the four members of the rock and roll band Queen were given the chance to do very little. 

The last time Roger had no plans was when he was a young lad in America, spending his normal day to day just relaxing in the sun. He missed it from time to time. Being carefree and young. He didn’t think about it often, as there was so much to look forward to. Traveling the world where people are chanting your name. Singing along to the songs that you wrote. It was everything Roger used to dream of. 

But he wasn’t dreaming anymore. He was awake, living the life he always wanted to live and spending nearly every waking hour with the love of his life. 

He and John were older now. Different. John’s hair was short, but then again, so was Roger’s. He had officially entered his thirties, which would have terrified him all those years ago. Back when life was short and the idea of growing old seemed more like a prison sentence than something to enjoy. 

Back when Roger was living in San Fran and went by the wonderful moniker Meddows, he spent every single day wanting to be young and beautiful. Wanting to buy lots of wonderful things that he could show off proudly. He enjoyed his life, being beautiful and that carried on even now. He may have gotten older, but he was just was gorgeous. He may mostly go by Roger, but he was still Meddows at heart. 

And just like Meddows, his heart belonged to the one and only John Deacon, who had only gotten more wonderful as the years went on. Their relationship was an open secret. They didn’t preach about it, didn’t kiss in public, but that was their own business.

Roger wasn’t the casual type. He was passionate and wanted to prove that point. He wanted to shout it to the roof type just how much he loved one single person. How much he loved that beautiful man. 

John was not like that. Sure, he wrote countess amount of love songs, but he wasn’t the one singing them. He was shy and while they may have thrown caution to the wind back when they were teenagers, he knew just how cruel the world could be. He didn’t want to lose everything because of the judgment of others.

So they stayed quiet and let Freddie be the wild one. Allowed all eyes to fall onto him and Brian while they stayed in the background, smiling pretty when it’s asked of them but otherwise they did their own thing, keeping their personal life personal. 

They lived together, in a home they had purchased together after A Night at the Opera hit big. It was their sanctuary, a place where they didn’t have to hide or pretend to be someone else. They didn’t have to be the Drummer or Bassist of Queen. They were Roger and John. Meddows and Deacy; that long-haired angel that he followed around San Francisco like a lovesick puppy. 

On this day, in particular, they found themselves wrapped up in bed with nowhere to go. No studio time or parties to prepare for. They were taking their time waking up, rolling around in the sheets like a couple of teens so lost in the honeymoon stage. 

Roger was kissing along John’s jaw, his cheeks, his nose. The brunet was laughing, looking oh so very bashful. Roger loved everything about John, but it was his smile that he adored the most. No matter how long they had been together, how many years had passed, the smile never aged. Never changed. It was still the smile of the boy that fell asleep on his lap during a music festival. 

“Are you going to spend the morning kissing me or are we going to get up?” John had asked, causing the dirty blond to pause. 

“I am up,” Roger argued softly. “And I could get you up too if you like.” 

“Roger! We have to be productive.” 

“Riding you into the sunset is very productive.” He responded, laughing as John pushed him away. 

He rolled over them, going to lay on his side, watching his beloved through half-lidded eyes. He was being flirty and they were being domestic. Their day had just begun and they had a world of possibilities ahead of them. 

“What shall we do today?” John mused, stretching out among the pillows. “We could go to town? You’ve been complaining that the far wall is too blank. Perhaps find a painting of sorts to fill the space?” 

“We could.” 

“Maybe take a trip up north? Travel for a bit?” 

“We could do that too.” 

John hummed, lifting his hand to run his fingers through Roger’s hair. Gone were the gorgeous locks that used to run past his shoulders was now up at his neck. Roger leaned into John’s hand, his eyes softening as he watched over this lovely, lovely man. 

“What shall we do, Roger?” He asked quietly. 

There was so much they could do. So many options for them. And yet one idea popped into Roger’s mind. One thing that he had never fully thought of before. Sure, it was fleeting through that came from time to time, but never stayed for long because how could it? Being in love with another man was taboo and against the norm. Sure, times have changed and it wasn’t exactly against the law anymore, but restrictions exited for a reason. 

“You know what I’d like to do?” Roger mused aloud. John watched and waited for him to say a word, to make his suggestion. Roger just smiled, those baby blues shimmering brightly. “Get married.” 

John paused, the words processing in his head. He laughed it off like it was a silly joke. Something to tease and roll their eyes about.

“Hilarious Roger.” 

“I’m not joking.” He swears softly. “That’s what I want to do today.” 

John sits up slightly, those beautiful eyes narrowed as he watches Roger carefully. “We can’t get married, Roger.” 

“And why not?”

“It’s against the law, for one.” 

“I don’t care.” The laws were made to protect the people this the world but that didn’t mean they were always right. Keeping him from sharing a beautiful lifetime with John wasn’t protecting Roger, but rather distancing him from having a happy life. 

“They’d arrest us. Beat us probably.” 

“Let them try.” 

John adjusted on the bed, his brow pushing together. It was if he was trying and failing to come up with different excuses. “We’d have to have a ceremony in secret. The planning would have to so persist, and careful, and would take so much time and effort.” 

“John!” Roger spoke a bit louder, watching the brunet off guard. “I don’t care what it takes.”

He reached out then, taking John’s hand in his own, their fingers lacing ever so carefully. They had held hands thousands of times. It felt like second nature by this point.

“There are things in my life I’ve wanted and things I have been given. Some of those crossed streams while there are things I never thought that I would want being told I can not have.”

“Sounds rather complicated, Roger.”

“I spent a good portion of my life with you John and I want to spend the rest of it with you too. I never imagined wanted to marry but now I can’t imagine a world where I’m not calling you mine in every sense of the word.”

He didn’t have a ring because he didn’t plan on doing this but what’s done is done and there was no going back. Roger would buy John the best ring imaginable, even if they had to make it from scratch.

John was quiet for a good while. Processing this over and over again in his head. He was far more articulate than Roger. John had to be sure about things before he made any moves while Roger was known for jumping right into it without a second thought. He was wild and impulsive and sometimes it would get him in trouble but he didn’t care. 

Meddows would have proposed to John right there on the boardwalk if it meant keeping him by his side.

“You’re serious,” John said quietly. 

“Have I ever done anything halfway?” Roger questioned. “Come on. Wouldn’t it be fantastic? A great big party just for us?”

John snorted, pushing up off the bed to stand. “Of course you think about the party.” 

“Life is a party, darling!” Roger replied, using his best Freddie tone too get the message across. Sitting up on the mattress, Roger grabbed John’s hand once again, tugging on it so he could look his way. “Marry me, John. I’ll beg if I have to.” 

John rolled his eyes, a smile creeping across his lips. “Don’t be childish.” 

Raising a brow, Roger took the challenge. Rolling off the bed, thankful that he hadn’t gotten old enough to the point where his muscles ached constantly and he was more broken than built, Roger knelt to the ground. 

“John. Wait! Hold that thought.” Leaping to his feet, Roger searches the dresser until he came across the onyx ring that John wore from time to time. Grabbing it he went back to the floor, kneeling on one leg as he held the ring up to him. 

“Are you using my own ring?” John questioned. 

“I’ll buy you a replacement if you agree. Now shut up and let me be romantic.” Clearing his throat, Roger began once more. “John. We have done things some people could only dream about. Written hit songs. Sold millions of albums. Our life is a ride and I don’t want to get off.” 

“Pure poetry.” 

“Marry me!” He demanded with a laugh. “I won’t take no for an answer. I love you and I want the world to know. Even if it’s just our own little world for a while.” 

“If we do this there is no going back.” They wouldn’t be legally bonded to one another, not yet at least. Not until the world calmed down about some things but Roger didn’t care. The intention and meaning were enough for him. 

“That’s exactly why I want to do it. No looking back. Only forward.” 

John took the ring from him, holding it carefully in between his thumb and pointer finger. He tossed it back onto the dresser, the sound of it bouncing among the other pieces of jewelry he had collected filled the air. “We’ll go into town. Pick out a proper pair.”

“Is that a yes then?” Roger asked the boyish smile of his lighting up the bloody place. 

“Obviously.” 

“Well, it would be nice to hear. Make it official and all.” 

John rolled his eyes, pulling Roger up from his kneeling position. He wrapped those deft hands around his neck, the smile that Roger adored oh so very much becoming more prominent. “Yes, Roger. I will marry you.” 

Rather than letting out a triumphant whoop like he was on the inside, Roger allowed John to pull him in for a sensual kiss, just before Roger decided to pull John back onto the bed with him to celebrate the old fashioned way.

They didn’t get married that day but they did plan for one. They took their time making love, enjoying the moment and all the feelings that came with it. They were left panting, covered in sweat and semen. Roger knew what love felt like but nothing was more powerful than laying in bed after a delicious round of sex. 

They eventually pushed themselves to dress; after a shower of course. A shower that was spent washing off their mess only to make another when Roger dropped into his knees to eat his fiancé out, slow and smooth as he worked his tongue inside John. He had the other man moaning, that beautiful face red as he pushed it up against the shower wall. The heavy steam of the shower fogging up the room though Roger didn’t care in the least.

They cleaned up for a second time, heading back into the bedroom to dress and when they were finished, John made coffee for them to share in the kitchen. They spoke about their options, knowing that while it wouldn’t legally be considered marriage, to them it would be the very same. 

Roger didn’t want the whole big wedding. He didn’t want the old fashion scene where his mums family sitting off to the right, a loud bash that he would spend thanking everyone and barely do a damn thing on his own. 

He didn’t know what John wanted, but he was happy to give him just about anything and everything. After all, John was an old soul, and that was one of the things Roger loved about him. So sweet and kind but also strong witted and dear. He made Roger so intensely happy. He would marry John in a church if that was what he wished.

Lucky for Roger that wasn’t what the brunet required at all. He kept it very simple. A ceremony was to go on but it was to be a very small and intimate affair with only a handful of people chosen. They sat together on the couch, some mindless show playing off in the background as they made their guest list. Roger tried to be cheeky and add a few fellow famous people such as Elton or Bowie but was quickly shot down by his beloved. 

His mum and sister were the only two he cared about. They had welcomed in his lifestyle, wanting for Roger to stay out of trouble and be happy. John did both for him and they were glad for it. He thought of sending an invite to his father just to piss him off but chose against it. His apparent marriage wasn’t going to be used as a weapon or threat. It was a choice that came from love and nothing else. 

In the end, they had just under twenty people which was magnificent, to say the least. Roger was sipping at his cup when he had asked John where he wanted to have it. He was thinking of a dining hall or maybe in a disco that they could rent out for the night but the beautiful brunet surprises him. 

“I want to go back to where it all began,” John confessed, his cheeks turning scarlet as he said the words.

“You want to go to Cali?” 

It didn’t seem too unbelievable. Roger was already picturing it. Standing inside a handcrafted gazebo in the middle of the park where they had first interacted or on top of the pier where they had frocked in the sand. The idea brought a smile to Roger’s face and he placed his cup down so he could reach out and grab hold of John. 

“That sounds like an extraordinary idea!” Rather than letting him explain himself Roger just kissed him soundly, sounding off with a dramatic “mwah!”

They rattled off locations, finding choosing nine and called Miami to see if he could arrange it off. They trusted the man more than anyone and decided that he would be the best substitute for a wedding planner. 

It was a wonderful plan overall and they quickly decided it would be happened sooner rather than later. After all, what was the point in waiting? They called every person they were inviting, informing them of their plans and explaining that if they needed to, they’d be happy to pay for all the air fair. 

Hell, with the money John had made with AOBTD, they could afford to rent out a whole private jet to take them wherever they wanted. 

Which, it turned out, was exactly what Freddie did. After all, if his best mates were going to tie a knot, there was no way he would allow them to travel in anything other than style. 

They packed their bags, made their reservations at the nicest hotel, and gathered all their loved ones, making their way to the sunshine state. 

It was odd, being back for reasons other than touring. Roger hadn’t visited since his first and only holiday and found that sitting back in the sun and lounging about without having to get ready for a show was something he could get used to.

Miami once again worked his magic and prepared everything in no time, including keeping the fact that the entire band was in one location completely under wraps. It was harder than expected, especially both Brian and Freddie were itching to go out and have a bit of fun, but they took one for the team, promising to wait until after the ceremony to show their faces. 

Now it wasn’t as if they were hiding out in the hotel. They had their fun, going to the shops and visiting friends. Brian had gotten quite good at an American accent and used it properly, confusing the hell out of anybody who approached him. 

Roger and John made their way to his aunt and uncles for a quick visit. His aunt welcomed him in with open arms while his uncle stayed quiet and polite. Roger knew what the man thought of him, thought of them, but he didn’t care a lick. He could be hateful on his own time. Visiting hours were for conversation and fun. 

John tossed them an invite to the ceremony, something is Aunt Petunia eagerly accepted though his uncle commented about. “Seems rather pointless. Celebrating something that isn’t even real.” 

“You know, it’s funny. I said the same thing to John about the birth of Christ.” Roger quipped, sipping at his tea and watching the American man ever so carefully. 

They left after that, though they didn’t go right to their hotel. Patricia had moved back to her home town, having finally settled down after joining the Peace Corps like she always swore she would. 

It was a wild scene, seeing the girl who used to slip ecstasy and dance on rooftops sitting with a husband as their children played on. It was the final puzzle piece in the mental picture in Roger’s mind, proving that they all had finally grown up. 

“Is he always like this or are my kids just lucky?” Patrica asked, watching as John chased around his niece and nephew. 

Roger laughed softly, unable to turn his face away from the scene. “We don’t have any kids at our disposal, but yeah. It’s always like this.” 

John was born to love children. It was just in his nature. He was caring and understanding. He was never quick to scream or show a bad reaction. He took things slow and enjoyed playing with the youngsters. Roger thought back to all the trips to Japan they would have during the tour and how much in his element John was surrounded by all the school children. 

“All done for the day, Uncle John?” Patrica teased as John made his way over. 

In his arms was Patricia’s youngest, a small girl who was barely even two. She was snuggled up against John’s neck, obviously tired out the running. 

Roger did not regret much in his life, but he found that being unable to give John this one thing was something that saddened him. John would never admit it bothered him and maybe deep down it didn’t, but the blond hoped that perhaps one-day things would change and a judge would deem two men worthy of adopting a child.

“Seems this one just had a bit too much fun.” John laughed, trading places with his cousin-in-law who hurried off to play ball with his son.

“So, how traditional are you going to make this ceremony?” Patricia asked, poking her little cousin with the toe of her shoe. 

“Not very,” John admitted. “No walking down the aisle or anything like that. Not a wedding. More of a promise.” 

“No need to throw rice or blow bubbles at us after we say ‘I do.’” Roger added, reaching out to tickle the toddler's cheek. “Though wouldn’t much mind having this one be our flower girl.” 

“Ooh, do you hear that, Lily? Sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Roger opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to offer that the older boy could be in the ceremony too, but he was cut off by Lily pushing off of John and crawling onto his lap.

Roger may not have ever thought of himself to be someone that would eventually become a father, but he wasn’t opposed to children. He liked to play and enjoyed making them laugh. And sometimes he was even down for a good cuddle. 

They stayed like that for a bit longer; chatting it up until both children were ready for bed. The two made their way back to the hotel, though they didn’t settle in just yet. They still had a lot to do, a lot to plan, so they stayed up working on it all. 

The ceremony after the ceremony would be simple enough. Dinner at a nice restaurant that Miami took the liberty of renting out to make sure there would be no prying eyes. There would be good food and even better music. Roger wouldn’t put it past Freddie to show up with a microphone and perform for everyone involved and he also wouldn’t doubt Brian to somehow sneak his guitar into the venue. 

“What you decided on what song we’ll dance to?”

The question threw Roger off, and he paused his search for a proper pair of sleep pants to turn to John. In his own home, he'd sleep in his knickers or less but he felt a bit iffy doing that on hotel sheets even if it was five stars. 

“Didn’t know that was my job.” 

“You’re the music snob between us, so I just figured.” John shrugged, all the while Roger gapped at him, utterly applauded. 

“Music snob?!” He mimicked. “That is by far the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Still the truth, Roger.” 

Roger gasped and searched the room, his hands falling to his hips dramatically. “I should call the whole thing off!” He half-shouted, getting a giggle from John who was laying out on the bed looking like a bloody angel among the pillows. 

“Just choose a song for us. I trust your judgment. Partially.” 

It should have been easy to pick a song for them. After all, they were in the music industry. They had thousands of songs at their disposal and yet each song that Roger has rattled off seemed like an ill fit. Whether it wasn’t romantic enough or disgustingly so. The lyrics just weren’t right or the harmonies were off. Roger felt as if there wasn’t a single song in the world that would fit for them and it was driving him bloody bonkers.

“At this rate, I could just write a song for us.” Roger quipped, tossing his pen onto the desk as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Already did that. Several times in fact.” John responded nonchalantly .,

“Romantic for,” Roger replies. “We are not using one of our own songs. Our egos are big, but they aren’t gigantic.” 

“How about some Ross and Ritchie?” John suggested, his jaw twitching as he fought the smile that was coming onto him. 

Roger paused, processing the names until it finally hit him. “No! We are not having our first dance as a married couple to that horrendous song!”

“Oh, but I love it!” John laughed, moving up onto his knees. “ _I’ll be that fool, for you_.” 

“We’ll both be fools if we choose that disaster of a tune as our song,” Roger commented, standing up from his chair. He shivered as John wrapped his arms around him from behind, swaying with him as he sang out of key. 

“ _You’ll be the only one!_ Come on Roge, harmonize with me! _No one can deny, this love I have inside. And I’d give it all to you! My love. My love._ Come on, Meddows. Sing it for me.” 

Roger wanted to scowl and push the man away but he found it impossible. John didn’t do things like this on the daily. It was so hard to get him to sing at performances but doing it on their own in their hotel do all places was incredibly rare. John didn’t have a perfectly professional voice but Roger loved it all the same. Any chance to hear him jam along to a song was a winning situation for them. 

Swallowing his pride, John places his hand over John’s, lacing their fingers together as he fulfilled John’s request. “ _My...endless love_.” 

John kissed his cheek, smiling brightly to him. Roger rolled his eyes but leaned back into his touch. “I’ll find us a better song, I swear off it.” 

He searched for the rest of the night, writing down every single song that came to mind until the early morning began to break and John had to pull him away from the tiny desk by the window and into bed so they could catch a bit of sleep. 

The days before the ceremony were quickly coming to an end and Roger was doing everything in his power to make sure they got it all done without a single fret. They hadn’t thought of what they were going to wear or how the ceremony was even going to go. Roger wasn’t kidding when he suggested that John’s baby cousin could be their flower girl, but they didn’t anticipate having a whole big wedding party. 

There would be walking down the aisle or veil lifting. They would have their vows and all that, but no priest blessing the scene (not that they could find one who would be willing). It would just be them surrounded by the people they loved. It wasn’t exactly what you’d expect from two rock stars, but Roger wouldn’t want it any other way. 

He went out with Freddie to find something to wear for the event, having not brought anything worthy of his wedding. And really, who would be better to shop with? Freddie knew how to be wild and outrageous, but when it came down to it, he could also come out looking quite proper and posh. 

They spent the afternoon spending the money they had worked so hard for and Roger kept that promise to himself that one day he’d be rich enough to buy out every single shop in the area. They did their best to keep out of sight and not give away that Queen was around, but it was harder than expected. In England or even Japan, they couldn’t go anywhere without people knowing who they were, but America was a strange one. 

They had a number one album out yet only a handful of people paid them any mind. And even they were ambushed by upcoming fans, it was usually all because of Freddie, who in his defense, can’t exactly pretend to be someone else. 

They narrowly avoided having a frenzy thanks to someone telling the tabloids that they were in town, but once again Miami came to the rescue and sent out a memo explaining that the band would be vacationing in New York for the weekend. That and paying to have a section of the beach off, giving them the added privacy that they craved desperately. 

It seemed all that was left was to get married. 

Well, almost. It seemed the two had forgotten one final, yet very important aspect to their union. When Roger had first proposed, he used a ring that John wore often enough and promised to give him an even better one when the time came. 

Now it was just a day away and they had yet to have rings of their own. Freddie had thrown a fit because they were supposed to be separating the two, though Roger didn’t understand why. Keeping one tradition over the other wasn’t going to make any of this any more real. This was for them, not the world around them.

Brian had been all pouty about not being able to throw them each a stag night, though neither Roger or Joe seemed to mind. They partied enough for a lifetime. Celebrating their final nights as unmarried men had no appeal to them. They much preferred staying in their hotel room or having a bit of a date. 

They’d have a honeymoon of sorts. Sneaking off to Bali for a three week holiday. After that, they would be starting up the newest album, so this getaway was much needed. 

Aside from that, there wasn’t much to focus on. Get the rings, have the ceremony, have the after-party, and then enjoy themselves before going back to work. 

They went off by themselves, deciding this was something they had to do without any interference or influence of the others. Roger wasn’t a ring person, as he needed his hands and fingers free to hold his drum sticks. He preferred necklaces. Something he could wear with an open shirt or vest. 

John was a ring wearer and knew what was quality stuff and what was absolute rubbish. Roger loved to watch him, as the brunet was completely in his element. He came off as a sweet young man with a boyish charm, but he could be strong-minded and a right bitch when he needed to be. 

He wasn’t going to let the salesgirl with faint lipstick and dazzling eyes oversell them on a pair of bands. Granted, with the money they made on their last album (and the money John racked in from his son alone) they could afford anything at this point, but they didn’t mean they would stand for being disrespected or mistreated. 

In the end, it was a combination of finding something special for them. Something a tad more personal. Going to a regular jeweler was a bust, but with some help of well-trusted friends, they were able to find a place that would make something just for them, even on a time crunch. 

They didn’t want diamonds or any other stones. They didn’t want marble or any other mineral. They wanted something special. Something lovely. And with the wave of their wallets and the promise to spread the word to anyone willing to do the same. 

Both were white gold with a wrap of vinyl, giving the ring itself a tint of black. They added a string of John’s bass, making it a tad more personal while with John’s, they added a few ripples on the sides, similar to the design of a snare drum. 

To finish it off, they had their little engravings. Something sweet and personal, a message that has been heard by so many but meant the world to the two of them. 

_You & I_

What could be more wonderful? 

Roger never imagined being so romantic with someone but he couldn’t think of a more perfect thing for them. 

When the day came, Roger woke up alone though he was not exactly surprised. While they scoffed at a majority of the traditions that came from a ceremony like this, John liked the idea of seeing Roger for the first time that day just before the event took place. So he took his time waking; making sure to shower properly and get a good shave in. He styled his hair nicely, going for brunch with Brian and his family beforehand. 

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and the bottle-blond couldn’t help but get a tad antsy. Seconds left like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and the hours felt like a bloody millennium. Finally, the time came around and they headed off to their selected area on the beach by the waterside. 

There were chairs set up so their guest could sit though the ceremony itself wasn’t going to take very long. Roger arrived later than most, wanting to arrive with style. Everyone was scattered, chatting to themselves as they waited for it to start. Lily was sparkling rose petals everywhere, coloring up the pale sand while her brother twirled around her.

Roger has brought his Polaroid camera with him and proceeded to snap pictures before passing it off to Patricia’s husband; a professional photographer, who thankfully had brought his own (far nicer) camera. 

He searched around, finally spotting his love. John was dressed to the nines. The man had always been better with fashion and didn’t need Freddie’s influence when it came to his attire. At least not anymore. Roger’s outfit was rather impressive; something you’d think a rocker like himself would wear to a concert and perhaps he would when the time came.

John was speaking to his mother and sister, as well as another person Roger didn’t reconfigure.

“Found the guy,” Crystal, his assistant popped up next to him. He too was dressed far nicer than usual and had a drink in his hand, which wasn’t all that surprising. “Wasn’t easy.” 

Time was changing fast and Roger knew that not every single religious figure was homophobic. Especially in a city like San Francisco, there has to be one paster, father, or rabbi that would approve of two men. Crystal searched all over until he finally found someone who would not only be willing to bless the area but keep it a secret as well. 

“And this is why I pay you so well, Crys,” Roger commented with a gentle smile. He might not be religious in the least bit he knew how important the influence was to John and he wanted to make this moment as special as he could for the other man. 

“I think you and I have two very different definitions of well,” Crystal commented, breaking away so he could go off and find a place to sit. 

Roger meanwhile went over, biting his lip as he approached the brunet. “Full of surprises, even on the day of our wedding.”

“It’s the best time to do it. Thought it would be a nice touch. Add a bit more reality to the whole scene.” 

John’s smile was large and glistening, all the whole those pale cheeks turned scarlet. He looked Roger up and down, nodding with approval. “You look lovely,”

“As do you. Gorgeous, as always.” 

Both men turned to the sound of someone clearing his throat. Miami approaches, gesturing for everyone to take their seats. Roger took John’s hand, tugging him in the proper direction. While they couldn’t have an actual marriage or even real partnership, the closest thing they could have made each other the legal recipients for one another if anything was to happen. It was a rather morbid idea but it was the only real option they had. 

So (once again) with Miami’s help they had lawyers on hand and a judge to sign off. Miami took the liberty of speaking along with the priest, offering words of respect and devotion that both Roger and John shared for one another. 

When it was their turn to speak, John went first; his gentle voice as soothing as the crashing waves. “There’s nothing that I could say now that you aren’t aware of Roger, but I just want you to know how happy you have made me in the past few years. I hope that I have made you feel even a fraction of that joy. I look forward to what the world has in store for us. Whatever it maybe.”

“Romantic git.” Roger teased wetly, swallowing down the lump in his throat so he could speak. “All right. Now I’ve never been fantastic with words. I’m more of an action type of guy but something tells me nobody here wants to see that.” 

“Speak for yourself!” Freddie called out from across the way. 

“I love you, John. I have from the moment I laid eyes on you back in sixty-seven. And I plan on loving you until I turn sixty-seven and then every day after that. And one day when this crazy world finally decides on what's good and what’s bad I promise to drag your beautiful bottom back here and marry you for real.” 

“Do you have the rings?” Miami asked. 

John’s nephew, dressed in his Sunday’s best, hurried through the sand to hand the box off to Miami. He held it out to the priest who blessed the rings thoroughly before passing them off to the men. 

“With this ring, I thee wed.” The priest spoke carefully. 

John repeated the words slowly, sliding Roger’s ring carefully onto his left-hand finger. And despite being a self-proclaimed (and somewhat judgmental) atheist, Roger did the same, taking the beautifully made ring from the religious man, the words falling off his tongue as he slipped the ring onto John’s finger. 

“It brings me great honor to announce to you both, in front of your loved ones and God themselves, and you are, in almost every sense of the word, married.” Said the priest, 

“You may now kiss. Not that we’d be able to stop you if you tried.” 

Roger didn’t waste another second. He pulled John in by the back of his tongue, kissing him soundly in front of everyone. He didn’t care if PDA wasn’t their thing or the idea of two men kissing was still somewhat taboo. At this moment the only thing that mattered was them. And by the way, John gripped into him and how his tongue swirled along Roger’s mouth as if to beg for entry, it was easy to see the brunet left the same. 

They went off to the reception after signing all the papers that were needed, allowing to at least have a bit of legal documentation on it. The party was being held on a sky bar that Brian had rented out of them, once again giving them the much-needed privacy. 

The place was spacious enough for all the guest to sit comfortably while well-paid wait staff came around with food and drinks. Roger was greeting people right and left, not wanting to leave a single guest feeling ignored. There wasn’t a band because why would they want one? They were a band, why would they hire someone else for their party. So they stuck with a DJ and a microphone, which Freddie eagerly took over to entertain the crowd. 

He sang a few songs and got people up on their feet, and that included Roger himself. He had never been much of a dancer. Sure, back when he was a young lad he would visit discos and lose himself to the music but he was older now. A tad more mature. But he was happy to sway to the music that his best mates had written while enjoying his reception. 

They kept the music light and fun. Roger danced with his mum and sister. With John’s mother and sister and aunt who had arrived with Patricia. With Patricia’s husband and children and Brian and his family and Freddie too. He swung Crystal around and did the twist with Miami.

And John. He danced with John throughout the night, and that included their first dance. Roger had gone made choosing a song for them and even if he wasn’t sure it was a one hundred percent fit, he couldn’t find anything else that fit them. 

Roger still remembered the first time he heard the tune. It was a week or so after John had come back into his life, just about ten years ago. Before John, he would have rolled his eyes at a song like this. Sticky and slow, terribly romantic. But then he looked to that gorgeous man that he loved so dearly and it quickly became one of Roger’s favorite songs. 

Roger danced with that man how. His love, his life. The only person Roger could imagine being with. The only person he could be himself with. Rogers. Meddows. And every single title in between. He held that man close, letting the sweet voice of Elton John serenade them like they were the only people that mattered. And at this moment they were. 

They had their whole lives ahead of them and Roger looked forward to whatever came their way. 

**_Who knows how long I've loved you_ **   
**_You know I love you still_ **   
**_Will I wait a lonely lifetime_ **   
**_If you want me to, I will_ **

“You must be joking,” John commented, his hip pivoting the way it did any time his attitude was on point. Roger had seen it time and time again, for the past forty-plus years. Nothing changed for the man, not really. And roger loved that. Loved that this man who has been his partner for almost as long as he has been alive has little ways about him, little tics that never changed. 

“Do you think I’d be down here if I was?”

He was proposing, right there in the sitting room. John was crafting with their youngest granddaughter, coloring and making lots of things that they would post up on the fridge and frame up on the walls of their mansion. 

The moment news had broken that same-sex marriage was legal in their country, Roger got into action. He dressed up nicely and combed his hair properly. He stole John’s wedding band while in the man was showering and pretended to help search for it when John mentioned misplacing it.

Their oldest son dropped his daughter child off, knowing how much his parents adored spending time with the little ones. They might be hardcore rockstars who smoked partied and drank until they fell through tables and forgot their band names and Roger has even snorted so much cocaine once he thought he would never smell properly again. But this man had turned into a family man faster than one would expect. 

Faster than even he expected.

They only had one sibling each so Roger and John decided to double that for themselves. They had two surrogacy and two through adoption. Things weren’t exactly one hundred percent like they were now, but money spoke and people were more than happy to turn a blind eye if it meant filling their pockets. 

Over time, things had changed before either knew it and the men jumped at the chance to have a family of their own. Things weren’t easy in the beginning, especially when word got out despite them trying oh so very hard to keep it quiet, but they were wise enough not to give in to the word of others and ignored the world around them and focused on raising their family right.

Roger wasn’t very keen on the idea of having his spawn running about. John was the first one to do it with his DNA and their son was a gift come true. Roger feared passing down some of his worst attributes, and suggested adoption for their second child, bringing home a young girl who required a good home.

After that, John began teasing him with the idea of having another baby, only to push Roger into having one of his own. He was apprehensive for a long while, but seeing that pretty little girl with golden locks dance around to a song he wrote tossed every worry out the window. 

After that came their final child, once again through adoption. A shy little lad that would follow John around like a shadow, wanting to stay as close to daddy as possible, as if he worried possibly being sent back to the orphanage. ‘

Roger and John wouldn’t stand for it and made sure each of their children felt loved and wanted, just as they did.

They had gotten a civil union when the world finally relaxed a little, and that ceremony had been better than the last but marriage was something Roger wanted with John. Something that he would display and say had legal weight to it. That it wasn't just named on wills and all that spiritual garbage. That in front of God and every other important person in the world, they were husbands. 

The toddler lifted the picture, showing it off to John. She was only three but was as cute as a button. Stormy eyes she got from her grandfather and a smile that lit up a room. John took the picture, lifting her to rest on his hip.

“What do you say, Meadows. Should Granddad marry Papa?” He asked her sweetly. 

The adorable little girl cocked her little head, her twirly pigtails swaying as she moved her hand. 

Roger gave her a suggestive glance, perhaps silently reminding her of all the times Roger allowed her and her older cousins to play dress-up with him; painting his face up with makeup and sending him through a string of flashbacks to one of their older music videos he had done. 

Finally, Meadows made a decision, bobbing her head pointedly. “Yes.” 

John hummed, looking back to Roger. “She has spoken.” 

“Damn we’ll say it then,” Roger demanded.

“I can’t believe you’re proposing to me with my own ring for the second time. You’re not very well planned are you, Roger.” 

“Bugger off and give me your bloody hand!”

With a roll of his eyes, John offered his left hand, allowing Roger to slip his wedding band back to its rightful place. John lifted it, admiring it so. Meadows leaned in, touching it with her dainty finger. 

“Pretty.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“All right. Help me up.” Roger requested. 

John rolled his eyes, grasping his arm and tugging the sandy blond to his feet. “You’re getting old, Roger.” John quipped in response to Roger groaning at the crackling of his knees. 

“Oh shut up and kiss me.” 

John obliged, leaning in to press a kiss to Roger’s lips. 

Meadows whines impatiently, tugging at Roger’s shirt. “We go to play now?” 

“Play? I don’t see whatnot.” Releasing his husband, Roger took the toddler into his arms, spinning her around. “What do we say, Meadows?

“Rock and roll!” 

Roger looked back to John, his smile wide and inviting. He looked at this man and thought of the life they had created together, including the life that Roger was holding so closely to him. “Come on, then. Let’s rock and roll, beautiful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a wild ride. I thank you all so much for reading this story. Sharing it and commenting all the lovely things. I'm sad to say that this is officially the end, but what a way to go. 
> 
> Don't have much planned, but who knows what the future holds, right? 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought down below. I live for your words, the lengthier the better! 
> 
> Until next time.


	9. Godspeed Your Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on my bullshit again, refusing to let a good thing end. 
> 
> Written by the request of Ronnie, who got me into this fandom, to begin with. You can blame her for all this bullshit.

Roger had never been on holiday during his childhood.

His parents, when together, fought far too much to be able to be civilized while at home, so taking the family car and going to a lake house or somewhere in the country was out of the question. 

When they separated and it was just his mum, sister, and himself, they didn’t have the money. His mother would save up for Christmas or their birthdays and have a nice celebration, but going anywhere other than their comfortable Cornwall home just wasn’t in the cards for him. 

And Roger was fine with that. He didn’t need to go anywhere. Never had the itch to travel the world. Of course, once he and the band got to be rather big, he had seen more of the world than he ever imagined seeing. When they say ‘world tour’ they mean it.

He had seen the board side of America and been all over Asia. Europe was his home but being able to pop into London in between going to Italy and France was more of a regular weekend event for himself.

And sure, they had a bit of downtime in between shows and to the chance to go to all the great cities Roger always dreamed of seeing, but that wasn’t a holiday. That wasn’t a vacation. That was being on tour and being large enough to sell out the biggest venues. 

No no. Roger didn’t start going on vacation until he met John.

The male was similar to himself where he grew up with a mother that worked too hard to take care of her son and daughter. John had a better upbringing until his father passed away, having gone on family vacations every other summer. He told Roger all about them at the beginning of their relationship and Roger always pictured John as the same type of man as his father. 

Someone who worked hard to provide for his family, but also want to have a bit of downtime with them. Roger didn’t know if two men could have a family together, but he liked the idea of piling all their possible children into a car and just hitting the road, whether it be to an amusement park or beach town.

He and John had gotten quite familiar with Disney after they started getting big in America. They would go any time they happened to be in California and that became something of a tradition for them even after they had kids. 

But that wasn’t a holiday for them. That was California. A place that would forever hold a special place in Roger’s heart. 

No, no. The first time they had decided to throw caution to the window and get the hell out of dodge had been while working on an album. Roger didn’t exactly remember which one as the making of all their albums had a severe amount of ups and downs. Brian had been dealing with something of a mean streak (problems at home), while Freddie was his usual high and mighty self (nothing new) while Roger just wanted his album song on the bloody album. 

And John was . . . suffering, to say the least.

John wasn’t the type to fight. He could and would if he had to. Roger had seen the man say some very harsh quips that caught many off guards as you normally wouldn’t expect someone as quiet and sweet as himself to say such a thing. But he could hold his own if he had to, but Roger knew he didn’t like being the bad guy. He didn’t like having to be blunt and cruel and put up with all the anxiety that came from arguing with his best mates. 

Sometimes it was just best to remove yourself from the equation.

So after a longwinded speech for John, who poured his heart out to Roger; expressing that he loved their mates and loved the band and loved Roger especially, he just couldn’t deal with it anymore. He needed a break. He needed time away so he could forget that they were apart of one of the biggest bands in the world. 

Roger could never imagine wanting to forget such a thing as it had been what he strived for since he was just a lad. 

But John didn’t want that. He was an accidental rockstar who just wanted to play the bass as a hobby to keep himself busy after classes. He wasn’t equipped for any of this garbage and Roger would be damned if he allowed John to lose his head over it. 

So they fucked off to Bali; a place that had always looked rather pretty in the pictures that John had shown him. Neither could feel bad about it. After all, they had placed the songs they wrote on the table, offering them up as a bit of a peace treaty for the others to choose from while they enjoyed themselves in the sun. 

They left a note. Well, a hastily scribbled out Post-It that John had attached to his bass in the studio before they took Roger’s car and went off to pack.

It was rather exciting and Roger was sure both Brian and Freddie would have a lot to say when they came back. At this point, it seemed the album meant more to them anyway so they could do what they wanted with it and when it came time to record, Roger would smile and play the drums like he always did.

Sitting on the beach with a drink in his hand and the love of his life had been more than Roger could have ever imagined it to be. Being young and rich certainly had its perks and he couldn’t remember being so relaxed. 

He was sitting back, singing happily to that Go-Go’s song that John had blasted just weeks earlier on the record player in the sitting room. Roger had rolled his eyes, finding the song to be ‘more pop than rock’ in his opinion, but he was singing his little heart out to it now. 

_“Vacation, all I ever wanted! Vacation had to get away! Vacation, meant to be spent alone!”_

They weren’t on tour so they had nowhere to be. They weren’t there just for a few days, but rather two weeks, so there was no rush to do anything. They could be as lazy as they wanted to be and it was wonderful. 

That had become their thing as the years went on. Every so often when things got too much for them, they went away together and forgot about the world. Sometimes it was Bali. Other times it would be Florence or Vienna. 

John adored the sand and the waves so anywhere with a beach that he could lounge on was an obvious chore. A few songs had come from it all, though that was no surprise to anyone. While Roger was the more obvious of the two, John usually saved his romantic side for his music. Roger took great pride in being the inspiration of every love song that John had written.

As they grew older and things began to change, the two tried their best to keep the tradition alive. When things got too hard (Its A Kind Of Magic tour) or too sad (Freddie’s passing) or too hectic (the endless array of children and grandchild) Roger and John always found time to sneak away. 

As the men got older, as did their children. Roger had found that vacationing with the kids was a world different from by yourselves. It had been John’s idea to possibly bring a nanny with them so they could have some private time, but Roger refused. Vacations were meant to be a family ordeal and if that meant running rampant after a handful of children, then so be it. Roger adored the chaos that his children brought on and wouldn’t want it any other way. 

And the same was to be said when it came time for them all to go on vacation, even after their children were grown and had children of their own. They were old now. Retired and a bit rusty but they still enjoyed going out and doing things. They weren’t dead and Roger wasn’t going to act like he was. They may not have performed anymore, but they didn’t need to. 

Queen’s legacy was set and stone and the perk of being the drummer and the bass player rarely did you find somebody that knew their names. They had their fun in their twenties and thirties. They had their wild fans that kept posters on their walls and they had those still.

Now they could just reap the benefits of all the hard work they had put into for twenty plus years. They could sit back and relax in the sun without a single care in the world. They were living a life that Roger couldn’t have even dreamed up, though even then it didn’t come out with a few bumps.

They had chosen to go to California, as it was the place where this all started; where he and John had first met many, many years ago. They used it as an excuse for it to be their office honeymoon after legally marrying. Everyone, all their children plus their grandchildren would be in attendance. The Taylor-Deacon clan wasn’t one to be messed with and Roger had much delight in seeing them run amuck through the villa.

John didn’t bother chasing them at this point and just went to get a drink, settling in with their daughters and daughters-in-law where they could be in the shade by the water. Their grandsons were splashing in the water, some building sandcastles and Roger even got up to throw a ball around with his oldest.

Roger took great pride in keeping himself in shape after all these years. His younger days had been filled with booze and drugs, but when ‘retirement’ came Roger refused to let himself go. He may be an aging rock star but he was an aging rockstar that still had a fit body and beautiful ass. 

Everything was going swimmingly until things turned somewhat sour. 

Their youngest granddaughter had been feeling a bit under the weather since they arrived. They tossed it off as being sick from the plane or perhaps even too much excitement, but they quickly realized when she asked to stay inside rather than play with her siblings and cousins that something was off. 

Her parents took shifts staying with her. They chalked it off as something of a stomach bug that would soon pass and as they would be staying for a little over a week they weren’t worried about her missing anything nor did they feel the need to return home. 

John had taken over after three days, deciding that he would much rather stay with her than have his children miss out on their vacation. Roger stayed behind, enjoying the company of his family though he missed his husband and seeing that little girl suffer was beyond painful. 

He and John were close to all their children but they’d be playing if they said they didn’t have a special place in their heart for this one in particular. Perhaps it was because she was the youngest or maybe because she had been named after Roger. 

Meadows pretty and perfect and deserved nothing but the world. 

When Roger snuck back into his suit, he found the two sitting on the balcony. It wasn’t overly breezy and they had a lovely, private view of the water. It was as close as they could get without Meadows feeling sick or tired. John sat opposite of her, strumming gently on Roger’s guitar that he brought with him everywhere. It was easier to lug around than a drum kit and who didn’t adore an impromptu sing-along? 

It was the same guitar he had purchased in this very state all those years ago. The first thing he spent his American money on; took his time decorating it with those flower-power symbols and his initials onto it. 

A familiar tune played out that Roger couldn’t help but to smile at. He had spent nearly his whole life with John and had come to accept his love of disco and pop and while he’d never come out and admit it, but even he had to give ABBA credit. Some songs were just so damn lovely. 

Roger stayed off to the side, out of sight as he watched and listened. John didn’t sing professionally as he didn’t have for it. Roger would never say John was a beautiful singer, but there was something sweet about him going against the norm and giving a go. 

His children and grandchildren were the only ones who could get him to do such a thing and Meadows was no exception. She stayed wrapped up in her blanket, knitted professionally just for her as a Christmas gift from Roger’s sister, watching as her grandfather performed his concert just for her. 

_“I can still recall, last summer. I still see it all. Walks along the Seine. Laughing in the rain. Our last summer. Memories that remain.”_

Roger entered just as he finished, offering a small round of applause as he approached. Even after all these years and all the things they had been brought, Roger’s heart still exploded every time he caught that beautiful man blushing. He dripped his head down, kiss the top of John’s as he took the guitar from him. 

“Lovely, as always.” He commented. “Are we feeling any better?”

“Slightly,” John admitted, opening his arms to Meadows as she moved across the balcony and came to cuddle up in his lap. “Appetite is coming back though very low energy.” 

“Low energy, eh? You take after your grandad for sure.” Roger teased, going to sit down in the empty chair across from the two. “Then again, you always were the one dancing on stage. Perhaps she takes after me?” 

The color to the girls face had returned though the tired eyes as remained. She snuggled up to John easily, using his chest as a pillow as he wrapped her blanket comfortably around her once again. 

John and Roger were never ones to play favorites with their children. They had special connections with all four, whether they be biological or through adoption. They were their children in every single way and while Roger had better conversations with some, he had more to laugh about with the others. 

John was the very same and that was passed down to their grandchildren, though it was Meadows they had connected within a way neither knew how to describe. She was so much like John in being so sweet, and quiet, and bright. But she had this loveliness to her that could only be given to her by Roger. She was a little spitfire that feared nothing and Roger would be lying if he said he didn’t adore her to pieces. 

“You’re not low energy Roger, you’re just lazy,” John muttered, though there was a playful glint in John’s eyes as he held their granddaughter.

“Papa play?” Meadows requested. 

Roger had taken his children’s and grandchildren’s review of his music with a grain of salt. They didn’t know him as a rockstar. As Roger “Meddows” Taylor. Former hippie and drummer of Queen. 

They knew him as Papa. As their father and grandfather. As the man with a large number of black leather pants and a closet full of shoes. Sure, his home was filled with platinum and double platinum records and pictures of himself and others with hundreds of celebrities, but none of that mattered. 

Meadows was the only one who not only approved of Roger performer but asked for it often enough. She’d sing most often than not and Roger swore to John that she would be a rockstar one day. He hoped to still be on this earth when that day finally came. 

“Play, eh? Well, how can I deny such a request?” Roger adjusted the guitar on his knee, looking up with those bright blue eyes to smirk to his beloved. “Of course, it won’t be as wonderful as grandad. He’s the professional guitarist in the family after all.” 

“Wanker,” John teased, getting a small giggle from the girl. 

Roger flexed his fingers, looking in the back of his mind for a song he had yet to sing to her. There had been so many over the few years that she’s been on their earth. Roger was fairly certain that she knew every single Queen song (yes even _that_ one) and even his solo stuff. 

Still, Roger didn’t always like to sing their songs. Sometimes he preferred the lyrics of another, so he chose a song that he adored endlessly. One that he had sung to John more times than he could count because it meant so bloody much to both of them. 

_“Oh, my love. My darling. I’ve hungered for your touch a long, lonely time.”_

Roger lifted his gaze, strumming easily as he watched the two. Meadows shifted comfortably on John’s lap. In her arms was the little teddy that Roger had brought with him to the hospital when she was firstborn. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but she loved it all the same and had become her cuddle buddy from then on. 

Roger smiled at the two, thinking back on his life when he was Meadows age. How he would listen to music like this hoping to drown out the sound of his parents fighting. It was a haven for him and protected him in so many ways. 

He met John because of music and they had their careers because of music. Music was his reason for existing and he was fairly sure life would be a lot less enjoyable without it. And while he wasn’t much of an ABBA song as John, he thanked heavens for music every single day of his life. 

Just as he thanked the world for those two wonderful people with the same storm colored eyes that were watching him play just for them.

Holiday or not. Bali or London. Anywhere in this whole bloody world. Roger didn’t care. He’d go anywhere so long as these two were there with him. By his side, forever and ever. 

_“Time goes by so slowly . . . and time can do so much. Are you still mine? I need your love. I need your love. God speed your love to me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is it! I can officially say I am finished with this story. Never thought I'd write older Dealor, but hey! First time for everything! Than you to everyone who has read and commented. This story meant so much to me, I can't even fully describe it. 
> 
> By the way, the picture of Roger in the mood board was taken by ME.
> 
> THATS RIGHT. I FUCKING MET HIM. ME -- A TRASHCAN WITH EYES WHO WRITES FANFICTION ABOUT HIM ON THE DAILY GOT TO BREATHE THE SAME AIR AND SEE THOSE BABY BLUE EYES. WHAT THE FUCK Y'ALL.

**Author's Note:**

> All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)  
> And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)  
> I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)  
> On a winter's day (on a winter's day)  
> I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm)  
> If I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.)  
> California dreamin' (California dreamin')  
> On such a winter's day


End file.
